


A Smallville Valentine's Day (1/22)

by Betor



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:51:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 36,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Betor/pseuds/Betor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere in a universe far far away...Valentine's Day dawns and Clark's fancy turns to a certain bald gentleman.  Meanwhile Alexander schemes to acquire his own universe and Clark to command.<br/>Warnings: This story makes completely gratuitous use of whipped cream, Kryptonite, aliens, men in tights, meteor mutants, secrets, lies, and Crater Lake dreams.<br/>Spoilers: Seasons One through Six. This story is based on 'Crimson' and 'Onyx'.<br/>Disclaimer: They belong to DC Comics.<br/>Rating: NC-17 Mature adult audiences only. Erotica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For this story I used the 'Lois &amp; Clark' version of Cat Grant. The other characters are all SV, except for Devilicus and Warrior Angel who I imagined as looking much like Clark and Lex. I also borrowed a few characters from the DC Comics verse:Streaky (Supercat), Comet (Superhorse), Krypto (Superdog), and Conner (Superboy).

"Kneel before Zod."

Lara leans closer to a raised stone pedestal as the hologram's faint voice echoes in the dark cave chamber. 

Jor El sighs.  "Must we watch this again?"

"Must you complain about it again?" Lara peers down at her son's image.  Kal El looks genuinely exhausted and haunted as he sways in front of Zod.  "Our son's solution might not be one that you would have chosen, but it did work."

"He was supposed to kill Zod, not marry him!" 

"I bet Zod never saw that one coming."  Lara nods in approval.  Could her son be developing a late blooming sense of strategy?  She must get him to the fortress for tutoring as soon as possible.

"And what if it hadn't worked?" Jor El demands.  "What if Zod hadn't been so horrified at the prospect of being bound to an El that he fled his host?"

"But it did work."

"And now Kal El is bonded to a human.  He's already much too fond of the pitiful creatures as it is."

"You would prefer Zod?" Lara circles the pedestal as she watches Kal El, his dark head bowed ever-so submissively.  Really, after so many years of fighting with them, Zod should know how infernally stubborn the Els are.

"No," Jor El concedes glumly.  "But now, I will never be able to convince him to fertilize any of the Kryptonian eggs that we went to such trouble to store."

"Sssh.  Kal El is about to make his move," Lara murmurs. Had Zod underestimated Kal El because of his human upbringing and ways?  Had the trapped human host influenced Zod, tilting him toward believing in Kal El's apparent yielding?  Or it had been Zod's own arrogance?

She watches as the human host faints, the El house mark smoking on his palm before fading into his skin. To endure the sear of the first bond mark at the same moment that Zod is cast out...Lara flexes her hand...no wonder that her son has not been invited to share his mate's house or create the second mark.  "Perhaps Kal El will develop a taste for power under Luthor's guidance."

"I don't think that we should encourage our son's reliance on humans," Jor El protests.  "How many times has our son come to us, and then left in the middle of a lesson, because one of his humans experienced some trifling trouble?  How many times has Kal-El persistently ignored our warnings and instructions?  How many times has he attempted to improvise a response when confronted with our technology rather than listen to us?"

"I wonder if Kal El is aware of the crystal's nature," Lara muses.

Jor El raises his white brows. "Do you think Raya told him the truth about it?"

"No.  Half-truths were always her preferred stock in trade.  At least, she didn't manage to bond with our son."

"You would prefer Zod?"

Lara gives her husband a warning look as he tosses her earlier words back at her.  "I think we can work with this Lex Luthor.  Both of him if necessary."

Lara watches as Kal El gently picks up the unconscious Lex and flies off.  A moment later, a  second Lex rises from the field.  His long black coat flutters in the wind as he looks from his hand to the distant speck of Kal El.  Disbelief, outrage, and anger flicker over his pale face.  She looks closer as he raises his marked hand and makes a vigorous gesture toward her son's retreating figure.  "What does that gesture mean, Jor El?  Is it a human betrothal signal?"

"Something like that." Jor El looks at the tiny figure standing on the table, jabbing a middle finger at the sky. 

Lara sighs. "How could any son of ours be so perverse as to use the El Crystal in a field littered with black kryptonite fragments?  What was he thinking?"

"I suspect that he was not," Jor El murmurs dryly.  He slides an arm around his wife's waist.  "Do not worry about it, Lara.  I will speak to Kal El, and this time, he will listen to me."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The wood wobbles beneath Clark's feet as he jogs down the pier.  He can see his mom and dad leaning back against tree trunks, fishing and drinking beer.  Sheriff Adams perches on the lifeguard's chair, in full uniform, scowling beneath her black mirrored sunglasses.  Lana's Aunt Nell sits in the shadows of the trees, alternately watching his dad and Lex's dad with her binoculars.

Pete and the rest of the Rosses are having a hotly contested game of volleyball, but their ball keeps 'accidentally' whomping into Lionel and knocking him off the hood of his shiny white limo.  Lana is dozing on a green towel, the top of her bikini unfastened, and forgotten fashion magazine beside her.  Jimmy is galumping about the beach, snapping pictures, and trying to chat up the girls. 

Lois swims laps in her red bikini.  Chloe sips iced coffee beneath the shade of a beach umbrella, while studying the computer magazine spread across the lap of her amber sarong.  Perry White sits on a white towel, rubbing suntan lotion on himself, singing along with the Elvis tunes playing on his MP3.  Cat Grant ogles guys in swimsuits over the rims of her high fashion shades. 

Clark cannonballs off the end of the pier, and hits the chill blue water with a satisfying splash.  He surfaces, slicking back his hair, and grinning.  His wide grin falters.  He feels a little too loose, free, and floaty in his nether regions.  Clark looks down and gasps.  His swim trunks are gone!  He sweeps a panicked glance toward the beach, but no one is close enough to see his problem.  He's gotta find his swimsuit fast.  Clark squints through the water to the lake bottom.  No trace of stray trunks there.  Where could they... 

"Looking for these?"

He turns to find Lex bobbing in the water on the far side of the pier.  The other man is holding a familiar twist of green fabric and smirking.  Clark sighs. He might have known. He splashes toward his friend.  "Lex! Give me those."

"Green's not really my color, although the little orange palm trees and pink flamingos are an interesting touch.  I suppose I could always use another pair."

"Give those back." Clark swims around the pier.  He makes a grab for his swimsuit only to be evaded with a sinuous wiggle. 

"Why?"

"Why?" Clark glowers.  Why does Lex always have to make everything so difficult? His gaze strays to the tasty looking splash of golden freckles across Lex's wide shoulders.   "Because they're mine.  That's why."

"But how do I know these trunks are yours?"

"Because I said so!  Jeez, Lex."

"That's not good enough." Lex shakes his head.  "You lie all the time, Clark.  I can't believe that this swimsuit belongs to you merely because you say so."

"I do not!  Not about...only when I have to.  And I'm not lying about this.  Why would I?"

"I don't know.  That's the question, isn't it?  Why do you have to lie to me?"

Clark searches his friend's face.  Is there a betraying glint of slyness showing beneath the wet copper spikes of Lex's lashes?  He can't read the enigmatic smile edging the scarred mouth.  He cautiously eases closer, catching his breath as Lex's foot brushes his calf.  "Come on, Lex.  You saw me jump off the pier."

Lex gives him a superior look.  "Really, Clark.  Don't be so vain.  I have better things to do than watch you."

"Vain!  I'm not vain.  You do watch me.  All the time.  You know you do, you...you Luthor!" Clark grabs for his trunks again, subtly herding Lex.  He drifts in the water, cutting Lex off from the main body of the lake.  

"I'm not an unreasonable man, Clark.  All you have to do it prove that the swimsuit is yours."

"What sort of proof do you want?  I was wearing a swimsuit when I jumped in, and I'm not now.  Do you see anyone else on this end of the lake except us?"

"We've both lived in Smallville long enough to know that just because you can't see someone, it doesn't mean that they aren't there, Clark.  I need a little more evidence."

"I bought that suit last year; it's not like I still have the sales receipt."  Clark moves closer, until the water is shallow enough that he can stand on the sandy bottom. He takes Lex's hand and draws the other man toward him.  "But I can prove one thing to you."

"Oh?  What might that be?" Lex asks, his voice lowering to a husky sweetness as he meets Clark's gaze.

"I'm really not wearing a swimsuit." Clark flattens the captive hand against his chest and slowly guides it downward.  He sighs with disappointment as his friend escapes his loose grasp, and then gasps at the sudden sly skate of Lex's fingertips down his stomach to toy with the gradually thickening border of his hair.  His thighs spread willingly wider as Lex's leg slides between. "Oh, god, Lex, please." 

"I don't believe anything without a very through investigation."

"That...that sounds fair.  Go ahead.  Investigate." Clark trembles as Lex twists against him, feeling the soft brush of fabric and then the even softer press of sleek skin, as both pairs of trunks drift to the sand.  The bare brush of hot Lex flesh nuzzling against his cock is too much.

Clark jerks awake, his hips convulsing against his mattress.  He leans up on his elbows, staring in disbelief at the dampness seeping through his plaid boxers to the blue sheets.  Damn it.  Now he's gonna have to sneak downstairs and start a load of laundry. He crawls from beneath his sheets and begins stripping his bed. 

His radio clicks on. "Good morning, and happy Valentine's Day, Smallville!  We hear there's going to be a party at the Talon in celebration of the day that manager, Lana Lang, describes as her favorite day of the year.  So go to the Talon, and see what Miss Lang has brewing for you!  But don't forget to keep an ear to your radio for winter storm warning updates."

Clark groans. Valentine's Day.  God, he hates Valentine's Day.  Just what he needs...a whole day devoted to reminding him of what he doesn't have, and never will, if the rumors of an impending Luthor Lang engagement are true.  Chloe's right; it's the worst holiday ever invented!  

 


	2. A Smallville Valentine's Day (2/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex wakes and consults with Devilicus and Warrior Angel. Oliver takes a shower.

Lex sighs and turns over, tucking his pillow more firmly under his head.  He opens his eyes and stares the large bookcase filled with comic books.  Next to it is a signed and framed poster.  He had selected this particular one precisely because of the way Devilicus is kneeling, framed by Warrior Angel's long legs.  An indefinable something about the pose manages to suggest that the villain's pliant lean against the hero's muscular leg, and strategically ripped spandex are due to activities besides fighting. Warrior Angel's hand lingers on Devilicus' dark curls.  And instead of a triumphant smile, Warrior Angel has the dazed look of a hero who'd just discovered that a villain's mouth can deliver a lot more than threats should the villain be so inclined.

Lex sits up and stretches.  He touches the fading pink scar left by his gunshot wound; in a few months it will be completely gone.  He catches Devilicus' wide blue gaze and smiles.  "Today's the day that Ollie gets knocked down a few pegs.  How dare that blond cretin not only kidnap me, but almost get me killed?"

Devilicus cocks his head.  As fun as their plans for Ollie are, there is that other problem running loose around the castle.

"Oh, him." Lex shrugs.  "There's a limit to what he can do without fucking up his own interests.  Besides we have an agreement."

Warrior Angel gives Lex a worried look.  Far be it from him to discourage Lex from finding a nice non-violent resolution to a problem for a change. It's good that Lex and Alexander came to an agreement, but is Lex certain that Alexander will abide by the terms?

"Not if he perceives a bigger advantage in breaking it than keeping it." Lex shrugs.  "Who would?"

That doesn't sound very good, considering who they are dealing with.  What if Alexander does break their agreement?  Warrior Angel frowns, and folds his arms over his wide chest.  What then?

"He knows who he's dealing with too." Lex grins like a crocodile spotting a tender young thing strolling down the riverbank.  He trades a knowing look with Devilicus.  "If he breaks the truce, we'll deal with it."

But ...Warrior Angel draws in a sharp breath and looks down into Devilicus' big blue eyes.  Devilicus smirks back as he rubs his cheek over the neat bite mark peeking through the ripped spandex on Warrior Angel's thigh.

"As for Ollie, he's been strutting around my town, taking up Clark's time and attention quite long enough.  Apparently he thinks I'm so stupid that I won't put Dark Thursday and working satellite together and come up with Queen Industries.  Maybe he thinks I'm a pubic-hair dying closet blond instead of a natural redhead."  Lex flings back his lavender sheets, unabashedly unveiling his full coppery glory.  He sits on the edge of his large bed, kicking his heels against the frame. "My Dad's involved too you know."

Are they certain about that?  Warrior Angel frowns at the twin stares of disbelief trained on him.  What? Lionel is Lex's father.  He could change.

Devilicus gives his partner a condescending smile.  Lex had been attacked in a LuthorCorp elevator, directly after a visit to his father.  And they had discovered that Lionel had not only visited Ollie thereafter, but had gone bearing gifts as well. 

"And do I have just the gift for Ollie." Lex smirks.  "One that will keep on giving."

Warrior Angel's gray eyes widen in alarm.  He thought that they had discussed poisoning people and how that's a Bad Thing.  A thing that Clark would never approve of.  A thing that would create significant obstacles to the success of Clark acquisition.

Lex trades a look with Devilicus.  Heroes.  So tiresome the way they fuss over every little thing.  How does Devilicus stand it?

Devilicus leers up at Warrior Angel.  Lex has seen the package on the hero and still has to ask? 

"It won't kill Ollie.  At least not directly," Lex adds.

What does he mean 'not directly'? Warrior Angel frowns.

Their buddy, Ollie, will be in no more danger of dying than Lex was when those inept idiots kidnapped him, and tried to test his powers by shooting him. Devilicus smiles brightly up at Warrior Angel.  This isn't poison; it's more like chum.

Lex nods.  "That's it exactly.  We're merely chumming up the water.  Or in this case, the air currents."

Devilicus sniggers.  He and Lex are just helping an old school friend out.  No harm in that, right?  Isn't Warrior Angel always telling them that it's a Good Thing to help people?

They didn't!  Warrior Angel stares from Devilicus to Lex.  His eyes widen in dismay.  They did.  They used Lana pheromones on Oliver.  How could they!

"It was pathetically easy to arrange.  We used Formula Three." Lex smiles as he thinks about Ollie stepping into the shower and getting the first dose.  "Susceptible mutants will pounce on Ollie as enthusiastically as Clark pounces on hot pizza.  The best part is that they will feel absolutely no inclination to treat him like a stolen artwork."

Warrior Angel shakes his head.  A good superhero knows when to let something go, and when to save his veto powers for more dangerous schemes.  He'll count this one as a training exercise for Oliver.  What are they doing to Lionel?

"Nothing." Lex shrugs. He glances slyly at Devilicus.

Yet, Devilicus adds.  He giggles.

Warrior Angel frowns at them.   Very well, don't talk about it.  It's not like he won't find out eventually, and if he thinks someone has gone too far, there will be a serious ass smacking in that villain's future.  What about the Clark situation?

"Clark gets priority." Lex throws a mournful glance over his shoulder at the empty space on the other side of his bed; the space that he's been saving for a certain hero type.  He sighs.  "I can't believe how long it's been since I've gotten laid."

Warrior Angel's face softens.   It was so romantic, the way that Lex vowed that the next time he fucked someone it would be Clark.  Too bad they didn't record it for a future anniversary tribute. 

Romantic. Devilicus grins. Yeah.  Just like that scene in 'Gone with the Wind' where Scarlett vows that she will never be hungry again.  Except Lex had been wearing a skirt...

"Tunic," Lex snaps.  "I had a Julius Caesar costume on, damn it."

Waving an empty bottle of Scotch around, Devilicus continues, while standing over the smoldering remains of his greenhouse, and vowing that Clark's ass would be...

"Shut the fuck up." Lex stands up.  He scowls at Devilicus.  "See if I let the two of you use my pool table for illicit purposes again."

Devilicus smiles knowingly.  Sounds like someone is envious about him having a hero to play games with.

"I play games with Clark."

Devilicus rolls his eyes. Sex games.  Not the simple random head fucking that a good villain does merely to keep in practice.

Lex announces boldly, "I can have Clark any time I want him."

Hero and antihero stare at him.  After a moment, Warrior Angel arches an eyebrow. Now they're both smirking at him. 

"I'm married to Clark.  What's that if not progress?" Lex looks down at the faint lines of the house symbol on his palm.  He closes his fist possessively around it. 

Ah, but there's the rub, isn't it? Devilicus nods sympathetically.  Does Clark know that he's married to Lex?  The only reason Lex knows is because he was forced to host Zod, and very lucky they all are that Zod has such a horror of the married state.

"Of course, Clark doesn't know," Lex snaps.  "He'd be stomping around my office, accusing me of taking advantage of an innocent alien, if he did.  Never mind that he's the one who sandwiched that alien artifact between our hands and wouldn't let go.  It will be my fault."

Warrior Angel gives Lex an encouraging look.  Perhaps Clark does know and is merely waiting for the Lana problem to be resolved.  He had refused to move into Devilicus' Towering Castle O' Doom until his villain had cleared out all the floozies and rent boys.

"I still can't believe that Alexander invited Lana to move in, and then had sex with her.  That's just payback overkill," Lex grumbles.  "And now I have to throw this damned Valentine's party that he arranged.  I piss Lana off, and then Alexander cozies up to her with secrets and diamonds.  The next thing I know, she's forgiven me again! Damn it."

Man, that's gotta be annoying.  That Alexander is one slick villain.  Not to say that Lex isn't fully Alexander's equal in villainy, Devilicus adds quickly.  He's sure that Lex will get the Lana problem resolved soon.

"We did have a little heart to heart about that." Lex lifts his chin.  "I've persuaded Alexander to stop interfering with my psych-out Lana campaign. Once she's been removed, we can concentrate on Clark issues."

Warrior Angel blinks.  Did Lex and Alexander agree to share Clark?  He knows that he's been telling them that sharing is a Good Thing, but there are limits on sharing.  Or has Clark agreed to...

"This Clark is mine.  No one else gets to have him.  Alexander can go conquer his own damned Clark."

Not so fast. Devilicus leans comfortably against Warrior Angel's leg.  How about putting a little wager on it?  Just to make things interesting.

"A bet?" Lex stares suspiciously at the villain. "On what precisely?"

On which of the Luthor boys gets a Clark first, that's what.  Devilicus buffs his fingernails against the shreds of spandex still clinging to his brawny chest.  He inspects his nails.  Got a problem with the terms?

"No. No problem." Lex narrows his eyes. "Because I'm going to win."

Maybe.  Maybe not.  Alexander is a pretty little package of slyness, what if he seduces ...hey!  Devilicus looks up, rubbing his head.  He frowns at his partner.  What was that for?

Warrior Angel frowns back.  There will be no wagers on this.  That would be bad.  What does he have to do? Draw up an itemized Bad Things list?

"It might provide some clarification on certain issues," Lex murmurs.

Devilicus sniffs.  He's a villain.  That's V-I-L-L-A-I-N.  Bad Things are what he does.  It's part of his not inconsiderable charms.  He hadn't heard any complaining about Bad Things when he had his tongue up a certain tight ass last night.

Warrior Angel flushes bright red.  That's enough.  They are going to help Lex get his very own hero.  And Lex is going to have them reframed in something nicer and roomier.  Because it's the right thing to do.  Not because of a silly bet.  Warrior Angel glances confidingly at Lex.  Silver would be good.  And frankly, the maids don't dust them nearly as often as they should be dusted.

Devilicus stares down at the floor.  He can't imagine why the maids won't dust them more often.  Really he can't. No idea.  Completely clueless.

"What did you do to the maids?  No, never mind.  I don't want to know." Lex runs his hand over his head. "No wonder Warrior Angel gets pissed off with you so much."

The quirk of Warrior Angel's mouth suggests that while Devilicus can be awfully annoying, a big, bad villain does have his uses.  Particularly when a hero puts in a long day saving the world and a door-to-door salesman knocks on the door just as one settles in for a nice romantic dinner. 

"Let me know when the 'help' you promised is going to kick in."  Lex stalks toward his bathroom.  The first order of business is a shower.  Then coffee.  He pauses at the doorway, a feeling of being stared at creeping over his back.  He turns sharply and scowls at the poster.  "Are you guys staring at my ass?"

Warrior Angel meets his gaze with a mildly inquiring look, but a guilty flush stains the hero's cheekbones.  Devilicus is leering, and making no attempt to conceal the fact that the villain is indeed admiring Lex's ass.

"This ass belongs to Clark so forget about it." Lex points a warning finger at Warrior Angel. "You just keep Devilicus under control, or I won't be answerable for my actions."

The arch of Warrior Angel's eyebrow suggests that Lex needs to refresh his memory of the whole antihero concept.  Antiheroes are by nature difficult to control.  

"Have you considered a leash and ball-gag?"  Lex walks into his bathroom, leaving Warrior Angel to stare thoughtfully down at a suddenly meek Devilicus.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Possessed by aliens, my ass. Like anybody would believe that." Oliver steps into the rippling sprays of water jetting out from his shower.  He sniffs at the faint lemony scent lingering in the air.   His housekeeping staff must have changed cleaning products again; just when he had gotten used to the smell of pines in his bathroom.  "Luthor reads way too many comic books."

Maybe he should give Lex a good hard kick right in the money; float few anonymous and carefully edited cuts of egghead announcing that he'd been a victim of alien possession to major investors in LexCorp.  Oliver grins. "I'd like to see Luthor spin that one." 

But if he does that and the leak gets traced back to him? If Clark finds out that he'd been behind the leak or the kidnapping and near murder of Lana and Lex, he'll lose all chance of convincing Clark to join his team.  Clark could be such an asset, particularly now that the younger man had gotten a job as a Daily Planet reporter.

Oliver grabs a bar of soap.  He's already had more than one argument with Clark over whether the ends ever justify the means.  Clark had even dared accused him of being just like Lex.  That had hurt.  So what if he and Luthor are both willing to use any means necessary?  Their goals are completely different, and that makes all the difference in the world.  Why can't Clark see it?


	3. A Smallville Valentine's Day (3/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex takes a morning shower and thinks of Clark. Clark breakfasts with his parents.

Lex turns his face up into the warm water flowing over him.  He can feel the tension in his muscles easing into relaxation.  What he wouldn't give for a massage, but there's no time for that indulgence in his schedule today.  He lifts his hand and stares down at the lines on his palm. The marks are so faint that the symbol only shows when the water is hot enough to make his skin flush pink.

He wraps his marked hand around his rising cock and strokes it.  Lex plants his other hand against the black tiles and leans forward, panting as the fantasy takes shape.  He's done something.  Something that deserves at least a mid-range ranking on Warrior Angel's Bad Things list.  Something worthy of the ass smacking that the hero had threatened him with.

It doesn't matter what really.  Just that he had done it, Clark had caught him at it, and now he's got to pay for it.  Lex firms his grip and pumps more roughly.  He can hear Clark's voice commanding him, and in response he spreads his legs wider for the alien's viewing pleasure.  But he can't yield quite that easily; his pride won't allow it.

He tells Clark that he can't.  He won't.  And what makes Clark think that he will allow some flannel-clad farm boy to take his ass in a drafty old barn?  But Clark's desire roughened voice tells him that he can.  He will.  He'll take it all, and he'll like it.

Lex imagines inhumanly strong hands shredding away his business suit, and touching him everywhere.  His protests, arguments, and excuses are all ignored as he is ordered to lean against the stall, where anyone can see Lex Luthor being helplessly fucked up the ass by a farm boy. 

He can almost feel the touch of red flannel on his flanks, the brush of denim between his thighs, and then...then...the hot hard push of Clark's huge cock into his ass as the alien takes him.  Lex moans desperately as he imagines himself spread wide and filled.  Helpless to do anything, but take it as Clark shoves deeper and deeper.  Sliding almost all the way out and then slamming back in. 

He shivers at the hoarse puffs of breath against his nape.  The rough bristle of five o' clock shadow on his shoulders as Clark presses closer, deeper, harder; he shoves back, taking all that Clark has to give him.  Flexing back and forth between the big cock filling his ass and the big hands jerking his cock.  Lex cums with a shout.  "Clark!"

He collapses, panting against the tiles of his shower, and watching as his release swirls down the drain. The sound of clapping and bravos abruptly invade the quiet of the shower, shattering his moment of peace.  Lex straightens with a scowl, and turns toward the tall figure standing in front of the steamed-up shower door.

 

XXXXXXXX

Clark sits down at the breakfast table, ignoring his parents' concerned looks as he studies the spread instead of diving in.  He looks at the stack of crisp, buttered toast, the heaps of golden scrambled eggs, the crisscrossing piles of bacon, the sweet white icing gleaming on top of cinnamon rolls, the jumbled heap of warm biscuits, the big wooden bowl filled with fruit. 

The only thing that attracts him this morning is the heap of rosy apples, but if he doesn't eat more than some fruit his mom will worry.  Clark spoons some scrambled eggs on his plate, and adds toast, cinnamon rolls, a couple of bacon slices, and several apples.  The apples smell even better than the bacon or rolls to him this morning. He rapidly crunches his way through four apples, unable to get enough of the sweet white crispness.

"Clark?" Martha glances from his plate to his face.  She reaches across the table to press her hand to his forehead.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Then why aren't you eating?"

"I'm eating.  I'm eating." Clark takes a big bite of toast.  He chews without enthusiasm under his mom's suspicious stare.  He finished the rest of the toast, and follows it up with a slice of bacon.  "See.  Eating."

"You hardly touched dinner last night." Martha shakes her head. "Are you sure that you're alright?"

"I'm fine."  Clark shoves a forkful of eggs in his mouth to prove it.

Jonathan leans his elbows on the table.  "If helping me out in addition to working at the Planet is making you too tired..."

"It's not, Dad.  I'm good."  Clark unleashes his biggest grin at his parents who look dubiously back at him.  He reaches for a cinnamon roll.  Maybe a sugar rush will help. 

Martha takes a sip of her orange juice.  "Are sure there's not anything that you need to tell us?"

"Like?" Clark bites into the roll.  Have they figured out that he's been assisting Oliver's Justice Team?  His parents had seemed so pleased every time he told them that he was going camping with Oliver and the guys.  His dad had been openly happy about the decrease in Lex time.

Jonathan frowns at him.  He growls. "Like Lex and his merry band of mad scientists."

"Umm, no.  Lex has been kinda quiet lately." Clark finishes his roll and eyes the rest of the food on his plate.  He takes a piece of toast.  "Being Zod took a lot out of him."

"It's just the quiet before the storm, son.  I'm certain he will be exhibiting his usual levels of homicidal mania before long." Jonathan snorts.

Clark crunches down a second slice of toast, finishes his third, and still his parents are staring at him.  What?  He picks up his glass of milk and takes a long drink.  When he lowers the glass, his parents are  staring at him with that look that says he's done something to set off the Parental Alarm System. 

"Clark, I know things have been difficult for you lately." Martha takes the honey jar and dabs her biscuits with it.  "I know that seeing Lex and Lana together is tough.  But you'll find the right person."  

Finding the right person isn't the problem.  From the moment that he'd held Lex in his arms and carried him out of the river, he'd known that Lex was The One.  The problem is getting that right person to realize that he's ready for more that the edgy friendship that they currently seem doomed to.  Where had it gone wrong?  Lex has always seemed happily immune to the spell that Lana cast over other guys.  What the hell had happened?  Clark scowls.  "You don't understand."

Martha trades an amused look with her husband.  "Clark, I promise, we do understand.  You may see us as stogy old married people, but we've both had our share of romantic heartaches.  We understand more than you think."

Jonathan helps himself to more bacon.  "I hear that the Smallville Times is looking for someone."

"Dad." Clark rolls his eyes.

"Keep your options open, son, that's all I'm saying.  If you have your heart set on working for a big city paper, well, the Planet isn't the only paper in Metropolis." 

"Yeah, I could send a resume to the Inquisitor." Clark rolls his eyes.

"Clark," Martha warns as her husband chokes on his bacon.  She pats Jonathan on the back.

"I could write about mutant frogs in the sewers.  Alien baby mamas.  Secret Luthor looove children.  I like working at the Planet, even if I do have to work with Lois." Clark downs his glass of milk.  "What's wrong with working at the Planet?"

"What's wrong? The Daily Planet is sitting between LuthorCorp and LexCorp.  That's what wrong with it."  Jonathan chomps down on a cinnamon roll.  "What if you run into one of the Luthors?"

"Luthors don't exactly roam loose in the streets of Metropolis, dad.  I'm much more likely to run into Lex at Poetry Nite at the Talon." Clark sighs heavily.  "Lana never misses Poetry Nite."

"You seem rather fond of it yourself." Jonathan picks up his cup of coffee.  He frowns at his son over the rim. "Why don't you skip Poetry Nite this week, and go out after work instead? Metropolis has a lot of pretty girls.  Of course, I snatched up the prettiest one, but maybe you should open your eyes and look around while you're in the city."

Martha glances at Clark.  "Is there anyone at the Daily Planet that you like?"

He can see why his parents have glommed onto Lana.  He'd used her all through high school to conceal what he really wanted.  And since then, he never missed Poetry Nite, but that wasn't because Lana was always there, but because Lex usually dropped by on that night. 

Clark sighs. Even if he wanted Lana, he couldn't have her; if she ever figured out that he's an alien instead of the average Smallville mutant...oh, yeah, she'd want him alright.  Just like Captain Ahab wanted his whale.  He looks at his parents from beneath his bangs. "What if I said that there's a guy that I like?"

Jonathan slowly and carefully sets his coffee cup back down on the table.  "What?"

"A guy?" Martha gives Clark an encouraging smile.  "At the Planet?"

"Not at the Planet specifically. I only recently realized." Clark looks nervously from his mom to his dad, "that I like guys.  A lot." 

"Recently?" Jonathan narrows his eyes.  "How recently? Since you've been spending so much time with Oliver recently?  I wondered why a guy his age would go on so many 'camping' trips with younger men.  If that blond pretty boy has been..."

"Dad! No!  Oliver's dating Lois.  He's not into guys, okay?" Clark pushes his plate aside.  When had this conversation gotten out of control?  He hadn't intended to provide any details.  Jeez. 

"Do you want him to be?" Martha asks.  "Oliver is a very attractive man, and you two have been spending a lot of time together lately."

Great. Now his mom thinks he has a crush on Oliver.  He'll never be able to face his friend again if his parents say something that makes Oliver share their delusion.  Or worse, what if they say something to Lois?  Or one of the Justice Team?  Shit. Clark rubs his throbbing temple.  Is this what a headache feels like? "It's not Oliver."

Martha reaches for a pear. "Is it that nice Victor who fixed your dad's computer?"

Clark sighs.  "No, mom.  It's not Victor.  Or A.C.  Or Bart."

"Maybe he's just confused," Jonathan murmurs to his wife.   

"Dad.  I know who makes me get," Clark turns red as he catches his mom's gaze.  He looks hastily away.  "I mean, I know who I, umm, like and who I don't." 

"Well," Jonathan clears his throat.  "I've never noticed, but I'm sure that there are as many handsome guys running around Metropolis as there are pretty girls.  If you meet someone special, bring 'em out to the farm.  We can always use another pair of strong arms around here."

 


	4. A Smallville Valentine's Day (4/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Onyx' Alexander and Lex taunt each other. Jor El tells Clark that he's now a married alien.

Alexander leans against the black counter in their bathroom, watching as Lex briskly towels off.  He turns envious eyes away from his double's sparse thatch of copper curls. Pubic hair, who needs it after all? There are plenty of people in Metropolis who pay top dollar to look as smooth as he does.  He preens in the mirror, adjusting the knot of his silk tie. 

"Think you're wearing enough black?" Lex sneers as he grabs a pair of lavender boxers. He tugs them up and covers the boxers with steel gray trousers.  "You look like you're going to a funeral."

"Perhaps I intend to." Alexander glances in the mirror. He strokes an appreciative hand over the fine wool of his suit jacket.  Damn, he's a handsome devil.  He likes the darker colors in his double's closet; all those bruised blacks and purples.  He glances disdainfully at Lex's choice of gray suit and white shirt. What a cupcake.

"The funeral may be yours if you don't show some discretion."

Alexander laughs.  "Are you still mad about last night?"

"Yes."  Lex shoulders his double out of the way.  He leans toward the mirror and fastens his heather tie with quick irritated motions. 

"I could help you with that." Alexander watches intently as Lex deftly loops and knots at the silk.  He grins at the look that he gets from his double.  Yeah.  He wouldn't trust Lex with a nice length of silk and a chance to wrap it around a pesky problem's throat either.

"You scheduled a LexCorp meeting at the same time that I already had a dinner with Lana on my calendar."  Lex slants a bitter look at the other man.  "Something else that I have you to thank for."

"Asking Lana to move-in?" Alexander grins wider.  He makes a dismissive gesture. "It was nothing.  I merely wanted to ensure that you were occupied while I was busy building my dimensional travel capsule."

"So now I've got Clark, Lana, Ollie, and my dad spying on me.  Do you really think that's going to stop me from doing anything that needs to be done?"

Alexander tilts his head.  "Stop you? No.  Slow you down?  Cramp your style? Yeah, I think it will." 

"And what if cramping my style puts a cramp in your project?"

"I don't think that it will.  It's in your interest to help me find a dimension of my own to rule."  Alexander leans his wide shoulders against the closed door.  "As soon as I find the right one, I'm gone.  It's not like you didn't make me pay for it, sticking me with Lana duty while you chatted up the scientists that I wanted to talk to."

Lex gives his double a long stare.  "What did you do?"

"Nothing."  Alexander radiates innocence.  "We ate.  We drank wine.  We went dancing.  We stopped off at the Talon for coffee so she could flash the latest edition to her rock collection at the general populace. Perfectly normal date stuff."

Lex sighs. "You know that if you keep buying her jewelry, she's never going to go away."

"Not my problem.  I'm leaving, remember?"

"If you keep fucking me up on this..."

"Relax, Lex.  I promised to stop romancing her behind your back.  Go on.  Drop evil hints.  Act suspicious.  Make mysterious with her.  I won't do a thing to discourage her from flinging china at you while screaming about secrets and lies."  Alexander fastens his suit jacket.  

"Damn right you won't." Lex studies the various bottles studding the ice mounded in the large white china bowl sitting on his counter.  He grimaces at the beer bottles.  "Do you have to drink beer? We have plenty of excellent wines in the cellar."

"That's a thought.  Why don't you come down to the wine cellar and help me pick one out?" Alexander bares his teeth in a smile.  He reaches for a bottle and opens it. "I have some fond memories of that place."

Lex strokes his tie and gives his double a meaningful look.  "So do I."

"I like beer." Alexander takes a drink, intensely aware of the beer flowing down his throat.  He can almost feel that chain wrapped around his throat again.  That fight had been the thing that had made him respect his double.  Originally he'd seen Clark as nothing, but another game piece, something to be used, abused, and cast aside.

But his double's willingness to risk the possible side effects of murdering him, to risk extinction...all for a pretty alien farmer ...that had made him take a second look at Clark on his reawakening.  That second look had led to third and four looks, and the slow knowledge of exactly why he'd been so enraged when the alien refused to rule at his side. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Clark kicks a clump of snow aside, trying to ignore the prickly sensation of Jor-El poking around the edges of his mind.  He's been ignoring it, hoping that Jor-El would lose interest.  Maybe he should get it over with.  He's still got some time before he needs to change and zip to the Daily Planet.  Clark reluctantly opens a connection.  [What?]

[Kal El.  We need to talk.]

[No, we don't. And stop calling me that.]

[It is your proper name.  Your Kyptonian name.]

Clark uses his heat vision to evaporate the snow piling around and on top of the chicken coop.  A hen pokes her head out of the coop and looks around with interest. [Yeah, well, we aren't on Krypton.]   

[No matter how long you live among them, no matter how deeply you care about them, you are not one of them.  You must accept that, Kal El.]

Clark turns away from the emerging chickens to zap the drifts forming around the barn and the corrals. [If that's all you've got to tell me, then we're done here.]

[I understand that it is a custom of humans to present gifts to those newly wed.]

What?  That's waaaaay out of left field.  Clark walks on, sweeping his gaze over the driveway.  Had the Kansas winters finally gotten to Jor El?  Frozen something important off?  No.  Jor El's presence feels entirely too smug.  Clark hunches his shoulders warily as he waits for the punch line. [Yeah. So?]

[What would gift would you like for us to present to your mate?]

[My ...my WHAT? What have you done now?] Clark demands.  Has Jor-El been up his old Human to Kryptonian make-over tricks again? He looks wildly around, but it's just him, the chickens, and the snow.    

Jor-El announces coldly, [I am not the one using dangerous heirlooms with no regard for possible consequences.  If you had bothered to learn about...]

[Could you stop treating my life like a frigging cryptogram for one tiny second?  Just tell me!]  Clark snaps as he reaches the end of the drive.  He opens the blue mailbox and pulls out the catalogs and bills inside. He scowls down at a pink, cupid-infested flyer inviting him to attend the Talon's Valentine Bash, and promising a free cup of coffee if he brings in the attached coupon. With problems like his, who has the time for nonsense like this stupid holiday?  Clark crumples the flyer and trudges back to the house.  [Look, this is ridiculous.  I'd remember asking someone to marry me.  It's not the sort of thing that you forget.]

[But you did ask.  Every time, you carelessly flashed the El Crystal.]

Clark slips on the gravel and falls.  He sits, stunned as he stares up at the cloudy gray sky in horror.  Please don't let the El Crystal be what he's beginning to think that it is. [The El Crystal?] A glowing blue shield shaped stone appears in front of his mind's eye.  Oooooh, shit! [But...but that's a weapon!  Raya used it on me when she thought that I was a bad guy.]

[Was that her excuse?  Raya always did favor the men of my house.  She used it on me also.]

Clark scrunches up his face.  He climbs to his feet and brushes off his jeans. [She's married to both of us?! That's sick.]

[There were an unfortunate few among us who were unable to activate a house crystal's bonding functions.  Raya tried to bond four times, but the bonding failed to take.  She did give you a partial truth; the crystal can be used as a weapon, but one risks certain side effects.  Such as marriage.] 

[Marriage?] A surge of nausea sweeps through Clark as he rapidly reviews all the Phantom Zoners that he'd used the crystal on. Is he married to all of them?  Even the guy who ate spines?  Euwwwww!  Clark slaps his hand over his mouth.  He is so not making conjugal visits to the Phantom Zone!  

[You would know about these things if you would acquaint yourself with your heritage instead of running from it] Jor El adds repressively.   

[I don't believe you!  Who am I supposed to be... ] Clark's eyes widen as he remembers pressing the stone into Lex's hand.  Oh.  Ooooh.  A small smile edges his lips.  Looks like the Luthor-Lang hook-up is off.  Just as soon as he figures out how to tell Lex. 

"Clark!"  Jonathan waves at him.  "You're going to be late for work, if you don't get a move on!"

He jogs toward the house to change.  How is he gonna tell his parents? They just found out that he prefers guys, and now he's gotta find a way to tell them that the only guy for him is Lex.  He's married to Lex!  The smile blooms into a full grin as Clark dashes to his bedroom and whirls into his office clothes.  He loves Valentine's Day!   It's the best holiday ever!


	5. A Smallville Valentine's Day (5/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy ponders the proper whipped cream. Oliver encounters trouble. Chloe and Lois compare Valentine's Day gifts.

Jimmy Olsen stands in front of his open kitchen cabinet, considering the rows of cans filling the bottom shelf.  The front ranks are squads of miniature samples, courtesy of his Whipped Cream of the Month Club.  All arranged in alphabetical order by name.  The back ranks are full-sized cans with lovely glossy gold covers, each bearing the proud red logo of Dawson's Gourmet Whipped Cream.   

 

How is he to select only three?  Too bad his lunch bag isn't large enough to hold more than a few samples, and his lunch.  Jimmy sighs as he looks at Dawson's Original White Whip.  Great body with hints of vanilla.  But Chloe had not been pleased with it.  Of course, it's a classic whip, and Chloe isn't the classic sort of girl. 

 

Maybe that's where he'd gone wrong.  What about one of the more unique flavors?  Jimmy reaches for Blueberry Dream Cream.  The fat blueberries on the gold cover are as dark and blue as Chloe's eyes.  Maybe if he tells her that, she'll like it.   What else? 

 

He surveys the line-up.  How about the Very Strawberry in case Chloe would prefer a sweeter taste?  Room for one more contender.  Which shall it be?  Too bad Dawson's doesn't have a coffee-flavored whip; Chloe would be certain to love that one.  He really ought to write the company and suggest adding a coffee whip.  His hand hovers over the glossy ranks, before grabbing his personal favorite, Orange Fever.   

 

XXXXXXXXX

 

Miss Jones looks up from her perusal of her boss' schedule for the day to see Mr. Queen staggering out of the elevator.  Her eyes widen in shock.  What had happened to him between his luxury apartment and his office? 

 

A thick, quivery goo that reminds her of garden slugs darkens his blond hair.  He looks like someone tried to use his head for an eraser.  His shirt and jacket are gone, and his bare chest streaked with the same goo that oozes down his neck from his hair.  His soaked black trousers mold his hips and thighs.

 

She jumps to her feet.  "Mr. Queen! What happened?"

 

He runs a hand through his hair and then scowls down at the goo gleaming on his hand.  "Little accident in the city parking garage."

 

"It's disgraceful how badly some of those garages are kept.  You would think that they would clean them every once in a while." Miss Jones wrinkles her noise as the smell of rotten bananas drifts to her.  What on earth could Mr. Queen have fallen in?  "Are you okay, sir?  Shall I call a doctor?"

 

"No, that won't be necessary. Thank you, Miss Jones.  I'm perfectly fine." Mr. Queen wobbles past her to his office. 

 

XXXXXXXXXX

 

Chloe opens the kitchen cabinet and studies her collection of coffee mugs.  Her fingers touch a pale green mug, painted with drifting leaves.  It had arrived in the mail yesterday; a Valentine's card had been tucked inside the box.  There had also been a red velvet bag filled with dark chocolate hearts covered in black foil. 

 

She tilts the cup toward her and smiles at the tiny gold-crowned frog sitting in the bottom of the cup.  How is she going to tell Jimmy that she's finally found what she's looking for, what she needs ...and that it isn't him?  It's someone that she met online, and the absolute last person that she had ever expected to find such an understanding with. 

 

"Why do you have a cup with a frog in it?" Lois leans over her and grabs a mug with camouflage colors from the top shelf.  "Or is that one of those things that I'm better off not knowing?" 

 

"It's an enchanted frog...a frog prince.  Didn't you ever read fairy tales as a kid?"

 

"Nope." Lois glances at the slow drip of the coffee pot.  She taps her fleece slippers impatiently on the white tile.  "Dad thought that kind of thing was a bad influence on a growing girl."

 

Chloe carefully sets the frog cup back in place.  She snags a beige mug covered with tiny hearts and coffee beans, and places it on the counter next to the brewing pot. "What did he read to you at bedtime then?"

 

"Mostly true adventure stuff."

 

"You never rebelled and snuck into the closest library to read fairy tales?"

 

"Hell, no." Lois sticks a pair of waffles into the toaster.  "I liked stories about people doing exciting stuff...solo sails around the world, exploring the Arctic.  Much more interesting than the standard girl meets prince stuff.  Or in your case, girl meets frog." 

 

"You got something against frogs?" Chloe opens the fridge and grabs some eggs.

 

"I got something against frogs in mugs." Lois pulls a pair of yellow plates from the cabinet.  "Don't tell me that mug was what was in that special delivery box you were so excited about yesterday?"

 

"It was."

 

Lois shakes her head.  "What sort of loser sends a girl a coffee mug for Valentine's?"

 

Chloe cracks eggs against the edge of a skillet, and tosses the empty shells in the trash.  "I don't see Oliver sending you anything in the mail."

 

"Oh, but he did." Lois reaches into the pocket of her white robe.  She waves her a colorful brochure at her cousin.

 

"Wow.  He gave you a shiny piece of paper. How exciting.  Why didn't my frog prince think of that?  I'll stick with the coffee mug, thanks."

 

"No, jerkette.  He's giving me a trip to Italy.  Now that's a Valentine's present.  But a mug?"  Lois shakes her head in disbelief as she tucks her brochure back in her pocket.  "No wonder Jimmy had to move all the way to Metropolis to get a girlfriend."

 

"I'm very happy with my frog, thank you very much." Chloe gives her cousin a mischievous look. "Besides, who says my frog prince is Jimmy?"

 

"Who else is there?  And he does meet half of the requirements."

 

Chloe points her spatula at Lois.  Jimmy might not be the guy for her, but there's no reason for Lois to talk about him like that. "You better be implying that Jimmy's a prince."

 

"I think he's pretty much one hundred percent frog." Lois pours the coffee in their mugs.  

 

"I think you ought to consider Oliver's froggie tendencies before mocking others."   

 

"What froggie tendencies?" Lois demands.  "Oliver is all prince.  I bet you can't name a single froggie characteristic that Oliver has."

 

"Oh, please.  Oliver wears more green than Kermit."

 


	6. A Smallville Valentine's Day (6/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver cleans up. Meanwhile at the Daily Planet, Lois offers to help Clark get a date and reveals her concerns about her cousin's mystery admirer.

Oliver steps out of his second shower of the morning amid a billow of lemon-scented steam.  He rubs a clear spot on the mirror of his office bathroom and stares at himself.  That disgusting slime had been damned tenacious, but he's finally got it all scrubbed off.  He runs his fingers through his wet hair.  He must have used an entire bottle of shampoo and another one of soap, but he's clean again.  Good thing that he always keeps a couple of extra suits stashed here for emergencies.

 

He pulls on a fresh pair of white boxer briefs.  What the hell had that thing been?  He'd never smelled anything that disgusting in his life.  And all that slime...Oliver shudders as he fastens his shirt.  Absolutely disgusting.  He can still feel the ooze of it across his skin despite having scrubbed himself lobster red getting it off.  The slime had been as bad as sand for getting into those hard to reach places.

 

At least the damned thing is thoroughly dead.  And he'd been left with no awkward body to dispose of since it had dissolved into a pool of goo.  This is what comes of having to use a public parking garage.  And it's all Lex Fucking Luthor's fault that he can't seem to get construction started on a Queen Industries garage.  Oliver scowls as he reaches for his hairdryer.  Maybe he could drop a hint to Lois and Clark about corruption in the city zoning board. It's exactly the sort of topic that would interest them.

 

XXXXXXX

 

Clark sips his coffee as he glances around the newsroom.  Lois listens expressionlessly to whoever is on the other end of her phone as she doodles on a notepad with a red pen, slowly filling the white sheet with red hearts. 

 

He looks through the glass windows surrounding Perry White's office, and idly watches as the editor yells at the errant reporter, currently on parade in the office as a dread example to others.  One day he'll be important enough to get yelled at in that office instead of brushed off with a nuisance assignment.  The phone on his black metal desk rings as Cat Grant saunters across to the break room. 

 

"Daily Planet tip line," Clark answers as he absently watches Cat rummage in the fridge, her short black skirt inches higher and higher up her bare thighs as she leans deeper and deeper into the fridge.  Finally she turns around with a diet soda.  She sweeps her long red hair over one shoulders of her tight pink sweater, and stares at Clark as she pops the top on her soda.  Clark looks away.  "What's your tip?  Oh, hello, Mr. Sanford.  What do you have for us today?"

 

Clark leans back in his chair, turning a yellow pencil between his fingers.  He drops it in shock as Cat captures his gaze again and drinks from her can.  God.  What is wrong with her?  To be fair, he might have been impressed if he had been exposed to years of watching Lex with a water bottle, and her act is probably good enough for whichever of his fellow newshounds it's aimed at this time.

 

He looks over his shoulder, wondering which of the guys had caught Cat's attention. Maybe Jake; rumor had it that Cat liked blonds.  "Sir? Did you say that the mayor's an alien? Yes, Mr. Sanford.  What makes you think that the mayor's...she taps out secret messages with her high heels during city council meetings?  Yes sir, you're the first to mention it.  Yes, you do get a free Daily Planet tee shirt if we use your tip.  Thank you for calling."

 

Clark hangs up.  He scowls at Lois. "Next time you have a wonderful idea for a pair of intrepid investigative reporters to investigate, recruit some other sap."

 

"Wimp.  So what if we have to man the Planet Tip Line while Joe's out sick? It could be worse.  We could be sentenced to updating obit files.  At least this way, we have a chance to come across something interesting, and get into more trouble."

 

"Lois," Clark gives her a stern look. 

 

She grins back him, unimpressed. "So tell me, Smallville, does the mayor favor Morse Code, or does she use some arcane alien code?"

 

"I don't know.  You want me to give Mr. Sanford your cell number when he calls tomorrow to leave a tip about how the giraffes at the zoo are really spies?  If you give him a free tee shirt, he'll be happy to tell all."

 

"Very funny, Clark." Lois selects a green pen from her pencil holder.  She begins sketching big pointy green arrows sticking out of each red heart. "Are you going to the Talon this evening?"

 

"Valentine parties aren't my sort of thing."

 

"Couldn't get a date, huh?" 

 

"I chose not to ask anyone," Clark announces with dignity.  He is, after all, a married man and off the market, even if he can't tell Lois yet.  First, he has to tell Lex, but how?  It's not the kind of thing that you simply walk up to a guy and throw at him. 

 

How can he tell Lex about an alien wedding without confessing to being an alien?  What if Lex believes him...will Lex want to, Clark blushes, do stuff with him?  God, he hopes so.  But what if Lex doesn't believe him and speed dials Belle Reve?  Or believes him ,and sends for the mad scientist squad? 

 

"Yeah. Right. Admit it, Smallville.  You couldn't get a date if you came with a limo and tux."

 

"I have a tux.  A very nice tux," Clark adds with a wistful sigh as he remembers Lex helping him pick it out, and teaching him how to fasten the tricky bowtie. "And I could rent a limo if I wanted, but I refuse to make plans to celebrate such a silly holiday."

 

"Uh-huh." Lois cocks her head. She looks at him, eyes bright with curiosity.  "Admit it.  You're too chicken to ask anyone."

 

"I am not chicken."     

 

"Then ask the girl already.  You've asked girls out before, so you must know how.  Do whatever you did that got my cousin to go out with you."

 

"I can't."

 

"Wimp."

 

"Lois."

 

"Go on, ask.  I dare you.  I double dare you. I triple dare you." Lois turns a considering stare on the other people in the newsroom.  "We need to find you a date for the Talon."

 

"No, we don't."

 

"That's your inner wimp talking, Smallville."

 

"Seriously, Lois, drop it.  I don't need a date."

 

"Wimpy, wimpy, wimpy," Lois chants softly.  "Stop stalling, Clark.  It's just a date, and I'm sick of seeing you mope."

 

"I don't want a date. I don't need a date."

 

"Of course, you do.  It's Valentine's, Clark.  You have to have a date.  Maybe Oliver knows someone who'd be up for a mercy date.  You don't want Lana to see you all broody and alone at the Talon's bash tonight, do you?"   

 

"What do you care?  You won't be there to see it.  You'll be shopping for your trip so you'll be ready to jet off with Oliver tomorrow." Clark squints at his cooling coffee until a wisp of steam curls upward.  He frowns at Lois' silence.  She'd been bubbling over all morning until that last phone call.  He asks softly, "Lois?  Did something come up?"

 

Lois gives him a tight smile. "Italy's been rescheduled, so I'm free tonight.  If Oliver feeds me a good enough lunch, I might even let him go to the Talon with me.  I hear there's going to be vendor booths, and all sorts of free samples.  Plus Lana's hired a band to play."

 

Ouch.  Clark takes a drink from his cup.  "Are Chloe and Jimmy going too?"

 

"I don't think she was intending to go, but Jimmy finally talked her into it."  Lois leans closer.  "Clark, do you know anything about this frog prince guy?"

 

"The frog what?"

 

"It's some guy that Chloe's been talking to online. I managed to pry that much out of her on the drive to Metropolis this morning, but she won't say much about him."

 

"Oh, online.  That's some screen name."  Clark shakes his head.

 

"Clark, he knows where Chloe works.  He sent her a Valentine's gift there."

 

"You know how it is.  Mr. Sanford sent us tinfoil so we could protect ourselves from radio waves." Clark grins at Lois' stare.  "His heart's in the right place, even if his head's covered in foil. I wouldn't worry too much about Chloe getting stuff at the Inquisitor."

 

Lois crosses her arms over her chest.  "I don't like it."

 

"Why? Did he send her something weird?"

 

"It was a coffee mug."

 

"Whoa, that's creepy alright.  You better call Sheriff Adams."  Clark grins as he imagines the blunt sheriff's reaction.  He puts his cup down as the phone rings, "Daily Planet tip line.  What's your tip?"

 

"Have fun."  Lois pushes back her chair.  "I'm off to meet Oliver for lunch."

 

 


	7. A Smallville Valentine's Day (7/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois/Oliver. Alexander works on his travel capsule.

Oliver sits at his desk, absently watching the caterers turn his meeting room table into a setting for a romantic lunch for two.  Block had died in the warehouse, and a day later, Wagner had been found dead, the apparent victim of a heart attack.  Then every electronic copy of his Dark Thursday images of Lex had vanished without a trace.  Which one of the Luthors had done it...Lex or Lionel?  Oliver frowns. Lex's secret serum story seems all too likely.  It would be just like Lex to begin a quest to acquire powers the second that Luthor discovered metahumans.  That would explain Lex suddenly developing abilities.  Or was it suddenly?

 

Had Luthor possessed powers at Excelsior, and been concealing them? Even back then, he'd sensed that the bastard had been dangerous, but after Lex had caught him stealing tests, he'd been forced to back off, and negotiate a truce instead.  They'd finished out their school years, amid flurries of covert sabotage and sniping.  Oliver pushes back from his desk and walks over to his mini-kitchen.  He opens the miniature fridge and pulls out a carton of his favorite chocolate cheesecake yogurt. 

 

He wanders back to his desk, swallowing a spoonful.  As if the taste summons Lois, he can see her standing in the middle of the room; long fawn hair falling over her barely covered breasts.  She scowls at him, her hazel eyes baleful.  Oliver shakes his head with regret.  He can't blame her; he'd be pissed too if his girl kept getting mysterious calls and putting him off.  But he can't ignore his calls.  Not when it's team business.  Or even when it's business business; the team and the missions are expensive. 

 

And he can't tell Lois what he's doing.  Not after what happened the last time someone suspected that she knew the Green Arrow's identity.  His lips thin as he remembers seeing the Safetex goons shove her head under the water.  If he thought those tactics would work on Lex, he'd be tempted to try it.  Oliver licks his spoon as he enjoys a vision of shoving Lex's bald head under water, again and again and again. 

 

There had been a time when he would have done it.  Back in his Excelsior days, before Luthor had the stolen tests to hold over his head, he wouldn't have hesitated to round-up a few buddies, and ambush Lex in the bathrooms.  In fact, he had done it, and it had been fun, but he doesn't do that sort of thing any more.  He's one of the good guys now...the kind of guy who deserves a girlfriend like Lois, even if he can't quite manage to actually get to the full coitus stage. 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

There.  All done. Alexander sets his screw driver next to a pair of pliers.  He stands back to admire the shiny black metal of his interdimensional travel capsule.  He flicks a linen handkerchief from his pocket and rubs away a smudge.

 

He glances at the read-outs on the flat screen monitor hooked up to the flashing array of lights and gleaming switches and flickering dials dotting the control panel.  The screen shows a tender young Clark, shirtless and glistening with sweat, as the boy sits brooding in the loft doors.  Clark kicks the heels of his work boots against the red-painted wood.

 

Perfect.  Absolutely perfect.  This Clark is bored and ready for something different and new in his world.  Disposing of the drug-addled double in that dimension should pose no problem.  And won't the Lionel who keeps his son so well supplied with drink and drugs be surprised at the sudden recovery? 

 

Alexander checks the settings one last time before he turns away.  This calls for a celebratory trip to the wine cellar for a little something to accompany his lunch.  He'll leave a bottle of something expensive, something that Lex has been saving for a very special occasion, empty beside his empty capsule.  Too bad, he'll miss seeing the look on his double's face.

 

As he walks away, a mouse scampers across the control board.  Its foot hits one switch and the tail slides over the touchpad as it jumps back to the floor, disappointed in its quest for food.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

"Oooooh, Oliver." Lois pants.  She'd had her doubts when he pulled out that pint of chocolate yogurt and began spooning it over her boobies, but...oooh...did her guy have a mouth on him.  Nothing gets her as hot as a beautiful guy sucking on her breasts and Oliver seems more than happy to give her girls his complete attention.

 

Lois arches against the red rose-petals scattered across the pink linen table cloth.  Her hands clench in Oliver's blond-streaked hair as he sucks her nipple back into his mouth.  She smiles as she catches a glimpse of her new emerald and gold bracelet.  Her thighs clench with need around his slim waist.  She's about ready to come, and if Oliver doesn't shove her red skirt up and her white lace panties down in the next five seconds, and slide inside, she just might go to Jamaica without him. 

 

Of course, even if she does, she'll still let him take her panties off for another go at winning a Jamaican vacation, because she's generous that way.  Maybe she should speed things along.  Lois slides her hands down the green wool of his business jacket, and beneath the open plackets of his broadcloth shirt to pop open the button at his waistband.  "Ooooliver.  Please.  I need you."

 

She freezes in stunned disbelief as his phone rings in his jacket pocket.  He goes still on top of her, and then lifts reluctantly away to stand between her spread legs.  He stares down at her and takes a deep breath as he reaches for his phone.

 

"Ummm, Lois.  I'm sorry.  Really, really sorry, but..."

 

She glares at him. "Oliver, don't you dare!"

 

He shrugs apologetically and pulls out the ringing phone.  "I'm sorry, Lois.  I can't just ignore my calls.  They're important."

 

"Oliver.  I'm important!  We're important! This is important!"

 

"Lois."  He glances down at the ID screen and sighs heavily. "I really have to take this."

 

"Well, I don't have to take this!"

 

"Lois, don't.  Wait. Of course, we're important, and this is important.  God knows this is important, but I have to take this call.  Look, I'll make it up to you.  I promise.  Go make yourself comfortable in the bedroom, and I'll..."

 

"Do what?  WHAT Oliver?" Lois snaps her bra over her sticky breasts, grimacing at the feel of scratchy lace on her sensitized nipples.  She yanks sweater over her head.  "Talk on the damned phone some more!  I hope you, your phone, and your yogurt have a good time together because I'm gone!  Somewhere out there is a man who thinks getting in my pants is more important than taking a phone call, and I'm going to find him, right NOW!"

"Lois, wait!"

 


	8. A Smallville Valentine's Day (8/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark gets molested. Oliver gets attacked...again. Clark ponders what to tell Lex.

Clark bends over the photocopier, delicately easing the jammed paper free.  Fingers skitter down his spine and cup his khaki covered ass.  He yelps in surprise and turns around to find Cat Grant smirking at him.  Oh, god.  He'd overheard guys talking her in the men's room on his very first day; half of them had been appalled, and the other half loitered in hopes of an encounter. 

 

There'd been another guy in here when he came in.  Had she accidentally groped the wrong guy?  Clark looks around the small beige room.  When had the other guy left?  How had the door gotten closed?  Oh, god, she is after him.   Shit. What's he gonna do? He tries giving her a stern look. "Miss Grant, you shouldn't touch me like that. It's wrong."

 

"You can call me, Cat."  She makes a mock purring noise at him.  "In private."

 

Apparently his stern look needs work.  Lots of work.  Now what?  Clark preemptively backs his ass up against the copier, taking it out of easy grabbing range.  He lowers his file folder to a defensive position in front of his groin.  Where's Lois when he actually wants her to barge into a room?  Can he channel some Lexitude?  Clark draws himself up to his full height and stares down his nose at her. "This is highly inappropriate."

 

"Oh, you're blushing.  That's so sweet.  I hear you're packed with farm fresh goodness."

 

Okay.  Lexitude delivery needs work too.  Well, he'd known that was an iffy tactic going in.  Maybe he should do the barn mouse thing and run away very fast. Clark eases away from the copier, file folder firmly in place as he keeps his back to the metal shelves lined with reams of paper, and boxes of toner.  "If you need to make copies, Miss Grant, I'm finished."

 

"Cat.  Arrrroaw."

 

"I...umm...I have a dog.  At home.  On the farm."  Clark takes another wary step closer to the door.  He glances at Cat and then door.  Shit.  It opens in.  He's going to have to step toward her to pull it open.  "His name's Shelby.  I like dogs."

 

"So you really are farm fresh."

 

"I did grow up on a farm.  An organic farm," Clark babbles as he gropes blindly behind his back for the doorknob as she moves closer.  Oh, god.  Where is it?  WHERE is it?  Where IS it?  Where in the hell is IT?  "We grow things.  Organically.  All sorts of things. Corn.  Apples."

 

"Uummmuuumm. Organic.  That would explain how you've grown up to be such a big, strapping boy with such a big round pair of..."

 

Oh, god.  She's reaching for him, and suddenly his folder looks awfully flimsy.  Surely his parents would forgive a tiny, tiny burst of speed.  Clark yanks the door open, and darts outside only to collide with someone as the door closes behind him.  He drops his folder, papers fluttering to the floor, as he reaches out to steady his editor. 

 

"Kent."  Perry frowns at him.  "What the hell is wrong with you, son?"

 

"Nothing, sir."  Clark scoops up his folder and papers up. He peeks distrustfully at the mild expression on Perry's face.  He'd been waiting all morning to get reprimanded for being late again.  Why did people always have to get into trouble when he was on his way to work? "I'm sorry, sir."

 

"We're all glad that you finally made it in, Kent."

 

Clark gives the editor an uncertain look. "Thank you, sir?"

 

"Because, son," Perry rocks back on his heels, "I've nominated you to be the official lunch boy for the rest of the week.  So go find out what the crew wants for lunch and go fetch it.  And Clark, when you've proved that you can handle that much responsibility...I might even send you out on assignment."

 

"Yes, sir," Clark murmurs meekly.  Oh, god, the lunch boy gig means that he's going to have to ask Cat and what she wants for lunch.  Maybe Chloe has an opening over at the Inquisitor for one slightly used journalist.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Miss Jones sniffs as the elevator doors open.  What is that?  God.  Has someone been burning something?  It can't be time for that dreadful Take The Kids To Work Day already.  Please, god, no.  Anything but that.  She hastily checks her calendar.  No, she's safe for a while longer, but if it's not that, then what is that scorched wool smell?

 

Her eyes widen as her boss stumbles out.  Angry pink sunburned blotches spread over his nose and across his forehead, and high cheekbones.  Is that a splotch of soot over his left eyebrow? His hair is sticking up and out in all directions, bristling with blackened ends.  His olive jacket looks like it has been molested by rabid wolverines.

 

"Miss Jones."  Mr. Queen rests his briefcase on her desk, apparently oblivious to the crumpled corners and the still gently smoking hole in the center.

 

"Yes, sir?"  She drags her gaze back up to his brown eyes.  They're ringed with black as if Mr. Queen had suddenly decided to try out a Goth look. 

 

"Call my stylist.  Get him to come to my office." He lifts a hand and tentatively fingers the ragged, scorched ends of his blond hair.  He looks down in dismay at the fine strands that come away with his hand.

 

"Some places are shutting down early because of the storm warnings, sir. He might not ..."

 

"Offer him double his usual rate.  Triple if you have to.  I have an important date tonight.  If I cancel one more thing on Lois today, she will kill me." Mr. Queen sighs.  His shoulders slump at a tired angle.  "Pay him whatever you have to.  Just get him here."

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

He's not going to survive a whole week of being lunch boy.  Taking the orders and juggling the various bags and boxes back to work had been the easy part.  Delivering had been the bad part. He almost hadn't made it out of Cat's office with his trousers or his virtue intact.   He could ask Lois for advice.  She loves to tell other people what to do.  And her advice is often surprisingly good.  Clark glances over his monitor at her scowling face.  Has she and Oliver had another fight?  She seemed like she was okay when she left the office despite that thing with Italy.   And she's wearing a pretty bracelet that she hadn't been wearing when she left the office.  He looks away from the queasy green shine of the emeralds.    

 

"What?" Lois demands sharply.  Her head snaps around as she glares at a passing reporter chatting on his cell.   

 

"What what?" Clark asks, trying to look as if he's never heard of a cell phone, much less ever answered one.  He adjusts his navy jacket, covering the snazzy red one holstered at the waistband of his khaki trousers.

 

"You're the one staring at me, Smallville.  What is your tiny little problem?"

 

Tiny little problem?!  Clark narrows his eyes. "Nothing.  How was lunch with Oliver?"

 

"Fine."

 

"Good.  Is he going to the Talon with you this evening?"

 

Lois tosses her hair.  "No."

 

"No?  But I thought you were ..."

 

"I decided not to ask him."  Lois levels a considering stare at man in an expensive pinstripe suit.  She watches as he disappears into Perry's office.  "Some times, a girl needs to shake things up a bit.  Oliver isn't the only fish in the ocean."

 

Maybe not, but Oliver's a fish with big pointy teeth.  Clark gives Mr. Pinstripes a pitying stare.  Guy'd never know what hit him if Lois took him to the Talon and dangled him in front of Oliver.  He's not gonna hang around to watch the carnage.  Besides, he's got his own set of 'tiny little problems' to deal with. 

 

He still hasn't figured out how to tell Lex, and he's running out of time.  He might just have to show up at the castle and improvise.  Clark pushes away from his desk and strolls out into the hall.  He picks up the pace as he passes Cat loitering in the hallway with one of her minions.  She winks and makes purring noises at him.  He can feel her stare on his back; the walk to the men's room has never felt so long in his life.

 

He hurries inside.  Please let Chloe be taking calls.  No one at the urinals.  Clark scans the gray stalls standing on top of the white tile floor.  Alone at last.  He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hits his speed dial.  "Chloe. Hey.  Do you have a second?  I was wondering if..."

 

"Clark! What's wrong?"

 

Clark raises his eyebrows at her urgent tone.  He hasn't even gotten to his problem yet.  "Chloe? Is something..."

 

"Clark, slow down.  You know you talk too fast when you're upset."

 

"Why are you talking like you're auditioning for a disaster movie?"  Clark asks.  In the background he can hear a strange squooosh noise and Jimmy's voice talking about whips.  He blinks.  Jimmy's into whips?  The vision of Jimmy in black leather and chains leaves him stunned speechless for a critical moment.

 

"Lana's got another stalker?" Chloe gasps loudly.  "She needs me.  Of course, I'll help, Clark.  I'll be right there!"

 

Clark slowly lowers his phone.  He stares down at the red cover.  What the heck had just happened?    


	9. A Smallville Valentine's Day (9/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy disapproves of Chloe's friends. Clark goes to the Talon's Valentine party.

Jimmy frowns as he sets the can of blueberry whip back on the lunch room table.  He admires Chloe's loyalty to her friends.  He really does.  But can't she have normal friends?  Friends who aren't always calling her.  Friends who aren't so damned needy and helpless.  Friends with leaky sinks instead of stalkers. 

 

If it isn't Clark on the phone with some problem, it's Lana, or Lois, and lately, even Lois' new boyfriend has been making a suspicious number of calls to Chloe.  And then there are those new guys that he'd seen hanging around her...a weedy teenager, a bulky blond, and a slim black guy; only a matter of time before they begin calling Chloe too.  Jimmy takes a sip of water and eats a piece of bread to clear his palate. "Lana's getting stalked?  Again?"

 

Chloe frowns at him.  "What's that supposed to mean...'again'?"

 

"What?"  Jimmy picks up the Orange Fever whip and squirts a line on the back of his hand.  If Chloe will only give the whip a chance, he knows that she'll love it as much as he does.  "Are you sure you don't want to try this one?  It's got a nice balance of tart and sweet.  Of course, if you favor a tart flavor, you can't go wrong with a good lemon whip."

 

"I want to know what you meant by saying 'again' in that tone." Chloe ignores the proffered can.  "You sound like you think it's Lana's fault that she gets stalked so much."

 

"No.  No.  Not at all."  Jimmy sucks up the line of orange whip.  He swallows thickly. "I've just never meet anyone that gets stalked so often by so many different people.  It's weird."

 

"Weird? Weird." Chloe snaps her phone shut and drops it in her tote. "And yes, you have.  You've met Lex.  He gets stalked almost as often as Lana, but no one thinks that's weird.  Just because Lana's a girl..."

 

"No, it's not that.  Lex is weird too.  I mean," Jimmy coughs as his second taste of whip goes down the wrong way under Chloe's cool stare.  Oops, he hadn't meant to confirm that he thought one of ...oh, hell, all of, if he's going to be honest with himself...Chloe's friends are Grade A Weirdoes.  Damn.

 

Why can Chloe see that her friends are seriously strange?  Clark, Lana, Lois, and Pete all seem normal on the surface.  But the more time he spends around them, the more weirdness peeks around the edges.  And their families have that same big ol' streak of weird.  Even Chloe's dad is odd.  If he hears one more crap factory joke, Jimmy sighs. 

 

"Really, Jimmy." Chloe folds her lunch bag and shoves it in her tote. "Next thing I know, you'll be saying that she asked for it. Lana can't help being so..."

 

"Lex Luthor's rich and famous and gets stalked.  That I get.  But Lana?  I mean, come on."

 

"Lana's special." 

 

Jimmy mutters, "I'll say."

 

"What was that?" Chloe demands sharply.

 

"Wanna try some strawberry whip?"

 

"No, I don't." Chloe stands up, smoothing her royal blue sweater.  "I have to go."

 

"Oh.  Well, don't forget the Talon's party.  We're still on for that, right?"

 

Chloe sighs deeply.  "I'll meet you there, Jimmy, but we need to talk." 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Clark reluctantly walks into the Talon and looks around.  The place is crowded with people and vendor booths as well as billowing balloon herds of cupids and hearts.  All that pink and white makes him long for clear, strong yellows, and reds, and blues of his farm.  A narrow-faced girl dressed as a gypsy catches his eye and smirks at him.  He looks hastily away, scanning the crowd.  His thoughts drift wistfully to the imperial purples, rich creams, bold blacks, and mellow grays of Luthor castle.  

 

"C.K.! Over here!"

 

Clark sighs as he sees Jimmy waving energetically at him.  Ever since Jimmy had figured out that he and Chloe had once been more than friends, the photographer had been throwing girls in his path like someone flinging rice at a bridegroom.  Clark waves and strolls toward the little trio of Chloe, Lois, and Jimmy. 

 

His eyes widen as he catches Jimmy's sidelong look at Lois.  Oh, no.  No, no, no, no.  Absolutely not happening.  Has Jimmy been talking him up to Lois?  Surely she wouldn't be interested.  He relaxes as he sees that her attention is on a tall blond on the opposite side of the room.  Clark veers sharply away, ignoring the droop of Jimmy's smile, and Chloe's raised eyebrows.  Oh, god.  He needs a drink. 

 

Too bad the strongest thing he can buy here is coffee or chocolate.   He leans over the counter and, hesitates...chocolate, coffee, or bottled water?  He finally orders his usual mocha with a double shot of espresso.  Maybe all the caffeine will get his brain going.  He's running out of time, and he still doesn't have a plan.  Or even an idea.  What if he can't make Lex listen to him? What if Lex is so pissed about being covertly married that he wants Clark's parts to fall off?  What if...    

 

"Save me, Smallville." Lois squeezes in beside him, and orders a cappuccino.  "That idiot Jimmy keeps babbling about some guy he wants me to date." 

 

Clark chokes on his first sip of mocha.  "What?"

 

"I'm not asking for anything beyond your limited social skills, Clark, so just relax.  All I need you to do is stand beside me and loom at any guy who walks over.  Then while you're looming, I'll go all mega-bitch, and with any luck, Jimmy's buddy will run screaming for the door.  That's the plan, okay?"  Lois frowns suspiciously as she glances over her shoulder.  "Why is Jimmy smiling like that?"

 

"Because he thinks his evil plan is working."

 

Lois turns back to stare at Clark.  "What?"

 

Clark sighs.  "I'm the guy, Lois."

 

"You?"  Her eyes widen in amazement.  "You?  That scrawny idiot thinks that I would date you?!"

 

"Me.  Why do you think I'm hiding over here?"

 

"You've got a thing for lurking in corners, Smallville.  Everyone knows that if they want to find you at a party, all they have to do is check out the hidey-holes and corners.  Sorta like looking for a spider."

 

"Gee, thanks, Lois.  If you get any more flattering, my ego's gonna need CPR."  Clark walks away from the counter, and pauses on the edge of the crowd, looking for a free table.  A spot where he can watch the crowd, listen to the music, and think about how he's gonna get Lex's attention long enough to tell the older man the news.

 

Lois follows him, sipping her drink.  She stands next to him, looking over the swirling crowd of happy dancers and chatters. "Hey, how do you think I feel after you just announced that you were hiding over here to avoid hooking up with me?"

 

"Nothing personal, Lois.  That's a matter of sheer self-preservation.  Oliver would kill me if I tried to hook-up with his girl."

 

Lois rolls her eyes.  "As if I'd have you.  No accounting for tastes though...you know, if you'd stop wearing such boring clothes, and put yourself forward a little more, you could get dates."

 

"Boring clothes?" Clark stares at her.  "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

 

"What you're wearing now is fine," she soothes.  "Not even you can go wrong with black jeans and a sweater.  The leather jacket's a nice touch.  No, I meant this morning's getup.  Khaki trousers, white shirt, navy jacket...god, could you be more traditional?  One thing I gotta say for the bald freak next door, he knows how to dress.  You could do worse than ask him for suggestions."

 

"Don't call him that."

 

"Or ask Oliver.  Somebody needs to show you how to dress and help you with other stuff."

 

"Other stuff?" Clark asks nervously.

 

"Yeah." Lois takes a sip of her coffee as she slowly looks him over.  "Look at the way you're standing...fidgety and twitchy.  You look like a whole bed of ants just crawled up your legs.  I'm amazed that Chloe and Lana were willing to be seen in public with you. You've got all the social grace of a one of your dad's dairy cows."

 

"Thanks a lot, Lois.  That was real helpful." Clark looks over the crowd and spots Chloe standing by herself as Jimmy eases toward the coffee counter.  "I'm gonna go talk to Chloe."

 

"You do that.  I'm gonna see what's shakin' in this joint." Lois walks toward a handsome blond dancing by himself.  She pauses at a vender's booth, bending down to check her hair and make-up in the small mirror that sits on the counter. 

 

The woman behind the counter adjusts her scarf and smiles at Lois.  "Down on love?"

 

 


	10. A Smallville Valentine's Day (10/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red K Clark and Lois interrupt the Luthor Manor party. Red Clark stakes a claim on Lex.

"How dare you!"  Lana glares at him. 

 

Clark automatically turns his head with her half-hearted slap.  He licks his lips, tasting the over-ripe strawberry flavor of Lana's lip gloss.  He grabs a glass from the nearest guy with a silver tray, and downs it to get rid of the taste.  Clark chokes and coughs.  He stares down at the empty glass.  What the hell was that?  Rocket fuel?  It tastes even worse than the lip gloss. 

 

Lana curls her small hands into fists.  Tears shimmer in her eyes. "Clark, how could you?  What's wrong with you?"

 

"You don't love Lex. You know you don't.  Did all those billions win you over?  How many trips to Paris did it take, Lana?" Clark glances over his shoulder at Lois.  "What do you think, Lois?"

 

"I think there isn't enough money in the world to be worth marrying Lex." Lois rakes a pointed stare over Lana's white dress with its high waist line and loose drape. "I didn't know that they made maternity cocktail dresses."

 

"This," Lana smooths the front of her dress, drawing attention to the flat lines of her stomach, "is an empire waist."  She gives Lois' half-fastened shirt and mini-skirt a disdainful look.  "It's a classic style."

 

Clark checks out the circle of Luthor flunkies as Lana and Lois continue sniping at each other behind him.  Chloe stares back at him; her wide blue gaze is full of hurt, worry and anger.  Half hidden by the folds of her evening gown, her hand is locked firmly around the wrist of the tuxedoed guy standing next to her.  Who's the...Clark snorts...god, Lucas Luthor. 

 

Now that's a face that he hasn't seen in awhile. Jeez. Would that be considered a trade-up or a trade-down from Jimmy? At least, Lucas won't be throwing girls at him.  Not if the younger Luthor's cold dark stare is anything to go by. Grenades, maybe.  Girls, no.  Clark grins cheerfully at Lucas.  He's been hanging around Lex too many years for Little Luthor Lite to scare him. 

 

His mom is at Chloe's other side.  Her red brows are pulled together in a stern frown.  Does she think he's a toddler to be squashed by a mere look?  His dad is beside her, looking almost like a stranger in a black tux.  Clark ignores their frowns as he continues looking around the room.  So this is what a Luthor party looks like.  He could get used to this.  As soon as he gets things settled with Lex, they'll have to throw a Kent-Luthor party that'll leave people talking for years to come.

 

Behind the crowds of guests in evening dress, he can see a band on a raised platform that's draped with dark red fabric.  The group continues to half-heartedly play while goggling at the scene unfolding in front of them.  The ballroom's parquet floor is polished to a warm golden glow, and the mellow gray walls hung with swags of red and white roses.  Not a cupid or heart any where to be seen.  Clark nods in silent approval. Much better than the Talon's decorations. 

 

Flanking the walls are long buffet tables, filled with big white china platters of finger food interspersed with crystal vases of roses.  Smaller round tables are decked with red and white silk covered with tiers of crystal champagne flutes.  Does Lex actually own that many flutes or had they been rented for the occasional? 

 

Clark finally allows himself to look at the tuxedoed man rising from the crushed champagne flutes.  He'd bet that Lex's attention is now firmly focused exactly where he wants it...on him.  Clark smirks as he treats himself to a peek beneath his husband's clothes.  Oooh, yeah.  He can hardly wait to tap that.

 

"That's enough," Lex crunches through shards of broken flutes.  He narrows his eyes at Clark. "This stops now." 

 

Lana nods. "You need to leave before we summon security, Clark."

 

"Go ahead. Call 'em."  Clark looks over Lana's head to meet Lex's silver stare.  Beneath the mingling scents of flowers and champagne, beneath the perfumes and colognes, there's a deliciously tantalizing scent that's all Lex.  It makes him think of the lush sweetness and biting tartness of a perfectly ripe apple.  Warm with sunshine and plucked fresh from one of the trees in the orchard...the crisp, rich snap of it under his teeth as the juices run wet down his chin. 

 

Clark licks his lips as he thinks of the shaded darkness of Metropolis clubs, and what he'd learned there.  He looks at Lex, his gaze dipping to the tight line of scarred mouth, and back up to the stormy darkness of Lex's eyes, and the fierce slant of copper brows. "You're letting Lana do all the talking.  That's not like the Lex Luthor that I know.  What's the matter, Lex?  She got you whipped already?"

 

"Clark Kent!" Martha moves to the front of the crowd, trailed closely by Jonathan.  She gives Lex and Lana an apologetic look.  "I'm so sorry about this.  He doesn't know what he's saying.  He's..."

 

Clark smirks as Lana's and Lex's gazes lock on to his mom with an almost perceptible snap.  Do they really think that she's going to slip and blurt the Big Secret out?  She won't do that no matter how mad she is.  He ignores his mom's excuses as he steps around Lana, and eases closer to Lex.  His nostrils flare as he draws in that intoxicating scent.  God, he wants to strip off that tux like he's peeling an apple and press his face to the skin beneath and suck the sweetness of it.

 

"Clark.  Clark!  Are you listening to me?" Martha spears him with her sternest stare.  "I said that we were leaving.  Now."

 

Jonathan slides his hands in his pockets.  "Son, we need leave.  We can talk about this at home."

 

"You can leave if you want." Clark shrugs.  "I still have something to take care of."  

 

Lana grabs Lex's arm.  "You should go home with your mother, Clark.  I don't know what you thought you were going to accomplish tonight, but whatever it is, it isn't going to happen."

 

Clark tunes out the rest of her speech as he stares hungrily at Lex.  Blah. Blah. You need help. Blah. Blah. See a shrink for god's sake. Blah. Blah.  What she wants isn't important.  What's important is that he doesn't like her hand on the black sleeve of Lex's jacket.  No.  He doesn't like that at all.  At least there's no rock glittering on her fingers.  He must have gotten here in time.

 

"Clark." Lex frowns at him.  "Go home.  Sleep off whatever you've taken.  We can talk tomorrow."

 

"Should I call security?" Lana whispers.

 

Clark ignores Lana.  He offers his most winsome smile to Lex. "Can we talk ...privately?"

 

"I don't know, Clark.  Is there anything left to say?"  Lex asks quietly as he searches Clark's eyes.

 

"What if I've got something new to say?" Clark purrs throatily.  "Something completely different."

 

"Lex," Lana frowns, "I don't think..."   

 

Clark reaches for Lex's hand and frowns as the other man evades his touch.  He allows a carefully controlled red haze to drift across his irises, and is rewarded by a deeper settling of Lex's attention on him. Let Lana try to match that.  Clark coaxes, "We need to talk, Lex.  You know we do.  Come on.  What about your office?"

 

Lex glances back at Lana.  "This shouldn't take long."

 

She looks at the circle of watching guests, and then at Lex.  Lana frowns. "Are you sure, Lex?"

 

"Yes.  You entertain our guests.  I'll talk to Clark.  He's obviously not himself." Lex offers her a reassuring smile and then leans down to whisper in her ear.  "Once he's somewhere quiet, he'll probably sleep off whatever he's taken."

 

Clark hides a triumphant smirk and wraps his hand firmly around Lex's bicep.  He turns his head at the loud thump of boot heels on wood and sees Lois strutting toward him.

 

Lois flicks a dismissive glance over Lex.  "I don't care how adorable you are, Clark, I don't do threesomes.  It's him or me."

 

He opens his mouth to diss her and a wave of pain sweeps over him.  Clark groans and drops to his knees.  His stomach twists viciously, and his heart stutters as he suddenly feels horribly weak and hot.  His hands tremble as blood heats with presence of Green K.  Who?  He moans in distress as it comes closer, and tries to crawl away.

 

"Clark?  What's wrong?" Lex demands as he reaches for Clark. "What is it?  What the fuck did you take?"

 

Clark turns his face into the solid support of Lex's shoulder.  He presses close to the comforting cool apple scent and away from the betraying bulk of his dad's frame at his other side. From somewhere very far away, he hears his dad whisper, "Son, I'm sorry."

 

"I'm sorry about this Lex.  I think we better get him home." Martha kneels in front of Clark, touching her son's face.  She gives Lex and Lana an apologetic smile.  "I guess he's finally coming down with that bug that's been going around."

 

Clark moans.  He presses his sweaty face against the smoothness of Lex's throat, tilting his lips close to his mate's ear, and pleads, "No.  Wanna stay." 

 

As he droops against the fine fabric of Lex's tux, he hears the assured rumble of the older man's voice as Lex talks about the worsening storm, blizzard warnings, and all those guest rooms in the castle, and how everyone else is invited to stay for the night.  There's an immediate murmur of interest and assent from most of the crowd. 

 

Good.  Nothing his parents avoid more than drawing unnecessary attention, and he's used up their quota of that for tonight.  Now if he can just get away from the green stuff, and recover his strength, Clark slides a possessive hand over Lex's muscular thigh.  He'll still have his chance to finish making Lex his.   

 

 


	11. A Smallville Valentine's Day (11/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois recovers from her Red K lipstick exposure.

Lois comes to herself with the taste of raspberries and chocolate in her mouth.  She stares down at the remains of a chocolate shell sitting on delicate silver and white china.  She jabs her silver spoon in the shell and looks around the huge kitchen surrounding her.  The cold white and icy chrome is nothing like the sunny warmth of the Kent's kitchen, or the friendly melons of the kitchenette that she shared with Chloe.   Where the hell is she? 

 

God, she feels sick.  Lois jumps to her feet at the sound of a quiet click behind her.  She smiles sheepishly as she sees her cousin standing in front of a stove, pouring hot chocolate into a tall white mug.  "Chloe?  Where are we?" 

"You don't remember anything?"  Chloe sets the pot back on the burner. "Do you want any?  I warmed enough for two." 

 

"No, thanks.  I feel sorta sick." Lois shifts uneasily beneath her cousin's intent blue stare.  How much has she eaten? She walks over to the gleaming rows of fridges and freezers lining one wall, opening and closing doors until she finds a cache of ginger ale.  That ought to keep her nausea at bay.  She grabs a can. "I feel like I ate a whole Thanksgiving dinner by myself."

 

"Not quite that bad.  You ate about a dozen of those," Chloe tilts her head toward the abandoned dessert.

 

"Damn." Lois licks her lips.  They feel odd...all swollen and tingly. "Why did you let me do that?"

 

"Let you?  It was all I could do to get you to slow down, much less stop at a mere dozen."   

 

Lois grimaces as she makes a quick calculation of the total number of calories she must have consumed.  She pops the top of her can and takes a quick sip. "Do you have any idea how much gym time it will take to work off that much chocolate?"

 

"No.  How much?" Chloe grins with cheery sadism.  

Lois shivers.  She looks down at herself, noticing her skimpy clothes for the first time.  She covertly loosens the waistband of her mini-skirt. Why is she wearing a mini-skirt and a barely there top over a lace corset in February?  What happened to her coat?  And why is Chloe wearing a shimmering burgundy evening gown?  "Chloe, what's going on?  Where are we?"

"Luthor Manor" 

 

"Shit. Tell me that I didn't go to a formal party dressed like this?"

 

"Afraid so.  Do you remember any of it? Or how you got here?"

 

"No." Lois shakes her head.  Is it her imagination or is that relief flickering across her cousin's blue eyes?  No.  Gotta be her imagination.  Why would Chloe not want her to remember?

 

Chloe takes a drink of her chocolate.  "Do you remember anything about today?"  

 

"Uh-huh.  I remember work and Perry being pissed at me 'cause I dragged Clark into...well, never mind," Lois pauses as she remembers that she's talking to a rival journalist as well as her cousin.  "Oliver called to canceled the Italian trip..."

 

"He didn't."

 

"He's gonna reschedule it.  And he gave me this at lunch," Lois hold out her arm, showing off her emerald and gold bracelet, "and promised to go to the Talon with me."

 

"Wow." Chloe looks at the bracelet with open envy.  "It's beautiful, Lois."

 

"Then he called." Lois looks away from the sympathy on her cousin's face.  "It seems that something came up.  Again. So I decided to go downstairs, and join the party.  The last thing that I remember is the fudge sauce and halibut."

 

"The what?" Chloe blinks. "What do fish and chocolate have to do with anything?"

 

"Your crazy boyfriend tried to hook me up with Clark.  Of all the people, he could've picked.  I've got standards you know.  I mean I'm dating Oliver Queen for crying out loud.  Thankfully Jimmy stopped short of offering us a complimentary can of whipped cream." 

 

"Jimmy clearly hasn't spend enough time listening to the two of you bicker."

 

"Clark and I agreed that we went together like halibut and fudge sauce.  We went our separate ways after Jimmy dragged you off into the pink balloon wilds of the Talon."  Lois frowns.  "After that, I don't remember much."

 

"What about the complimentary lipstick that Star was handing out?" 

 

"Star?"  

 

"Star's Earth Essences.  She had a booth," Chloe prompts.  "Skinny brunette.  Dressed like she couldn't decide if she wanted to be a gypsy or a gay pirate."

 

"Oh, oh, her...the down-on-love woman?  You wouldn't believe the line that she gave me about how her lipstick would make me fall in love with the first guy that I saw.  Have you ever heard anything so completely lame?  Still it was free, and I liked the shade."

 

"Lois, what possessed you to use that lipstick?  You've been living in Smallville long enough to know better."

 

"Oh, come on.  Like there's any chance that a lipstick would make me," Lois pauses as she notices the pitying expression on her cousin's face.  "Oh.  God.  Who?"

 

"Clark was the first guy you saw."

 

"Nooooo." Lois groans. "Kill me now."

 

"It could've been worse."

 

"Worse?  Worse!  How?" Lois demands.

 

"Let me could the ways.  Who else might you have seen? Hmmm, how about Lionel?"

 

"Are you trying to make me barf? Lionel Luthor? Blech!"

 

"Lex."

 

"Barf, barf, barf."

 

Chloe rinses her mug out and sets it in the sink.  "And who will be my top pick for the List O' Badness?  Ding, ding, ding, I've got a winner...Jonathan Kent!  Ms. Kent would kill you."

 

"Okay, okay, I concede I could've done worse than Clark. But please, please, tell me that I didn't do Clark. Tell me that he screamed in horror and made a run for it."

 

"At first."

 

"At first?" Lois stares at her cousin.  Her hazel eyes round in dismay.  "That implies that there was an at last."

 

"As in ...at last our intrepid traveling saleswoman corners the farmer's son in his loft and had her evil way with him and his little tractor too?"

 

"If his tractor is so little, why would the traveling saleswoman bother?  Chloe, come on.  Tell me that I did not have sex with," Lois grimaces, "Clark."

 

"You weren't with me the entire evening.  The only person that can tell you what happened between the two of you is Clark."  Chloe finishes her chocolate.

 

"Assuming he remembers any more than I do." Lois sighs.  "What am I going to tell Oliver?"

 

"I don't know, but you better think of something good.  I'm sure the gossip has made it to Oliver by now.  Possibly even with pictures." Chloe rinses out her mug and the pot that she'd used.  "I saw Cat Grant sneaking some shots of you and Clark playing tonsil hockey in the entrance to the ballroom."

 

"Shit." Lois scowls.  She's glad that she doesn't remember, but she'd like to know what it is that she isn't remembering.  How far had things gone?   She could count the condoms in her purse, but what if she and Clark had been so crazy that they hadn't used any?  Shit, shit, shit.  She can't be knocked up.  Not by Clark.  She just can't.  What the hell is she going to tell Oliver?  Will he believe something as bizarre as spiked lipstick?

 

"You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself at the time.  And Clark is a really good kisser."

 

"Hey! Spiked lipstick! Besides no one kisses as good as Oliver." Lois eyes her cousin warily.  Why is Chloe smirking like that?

 

"If you say so.  Come on, let's go find our rooms and try to get some sleep.  Things will look better in morning, or so my dad always tells me."

 

Lois trails her cousin out of the kitchen.  "Why aren't we going home?"

 

"The snow storm's been getting worse all evening.  Lex offered rooms to anyone who wanted to stay."

 

"And we wanted to stay at Creep Castle?  Chloe, our apartment is only..."

 

"Don't start with me.  You weren't yourself so I made an executive decision for both of us.  There are some doctors among Lex's guests; I figured it would be easier to go bang on one of their doors tonight, than to drag your sorry fanny to Smallville Medical if you didn't snap out of it."  

 

 

 


	12. A Smallville Valentine's Day (12/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex consults with Devilicus and Warrior Angel. Oliver is attacker by a meteor freak while on a mission. Lex ogles naked Clark.

"That will be all for now." Lex watches his dark-haired chief of security stride out of his office.  He flexes his shoulders, feeling the ache of muscles where he'd hit the table and floor, after Clark had thrown him; if he hadn't been trained and known exactly how to take a fall, he would have more than lingering soreness to deal with. 

 

He walks over to the bookcase and rummages behind the leather bound volumes until his hand closes over a plastic pill bottle that Toby had left behind on a previous visit.  He takes a bottle of water from the bar and then returns to his desk.  Lex sits down and places the pill bottle next to his laptop.  

 

Devilicus and Warrior Angel stand on the top of his desk, their arms crossed as they give him narrow-eyed looks, and making no secret of their disapproval of the pill bottle's appearance on their field of glass.

 

"Fuck you.  If I want a pill, I'll take one."  Lex picks up the bottle and shakes one pill out into his palm.  He pops it in his mouth, and chases it down with a swallow of water.  There.  That should ease a few edges. 

 

He's tempted to take a second one, but he can't afford to let his guard down too much.  Not with Clark under the influence, and Alexander lurking about, and Lana stomping in and out of his office with fresh volleys of potshots.  He's left the keys to both his fastest car and a LexCorp hummer in plain view; she can have her choice.  How much more is it going to take before she grabs one of key chains and leaves?

 

Lex slouches in his chair, watching the weather radar's colorful maps flowing over his laptop screen. He touches his throat, remembering the silken brush of Clark's hair, and the warm touch of that mouth as Clark whispered to him.  It's a good sign that Clark had wanted to stay at the castle tonight, isn't it?  Lex glances at his two companions.  "What do you guys think?"

 

Personally, he thinks that Lex is pretty damned hot. No offense, babe.  Devilicus pats Warrior Angel's ass with affection.  He's got no doubts about why Clark wanted to stay.  He saw that sly hand to thigh move. Niiice.

 

"I don't know.  He's gotten a little sneakier since he's been spending so much time with Ollie.  What if Ollie put him up to playing Mata Hari with me?" Lex murmurs uncertainly. 

 

Devilicus purses his lips thoughtfully.  It's possible that Clark might have an ulterior motive for wanting to stay, but he'd peg Clark as more likely to go for a quick snoop through Lex's office and around the castle than play seducer, if what the alien really wanted was a few LexCorp secrets. 

 

Warrior Angel sighs.  Maybe Clark has no motive other than a case of Lex lust.  Have they forgotten the way that the alien storms the castle every other day?  And when Clark isn't flinging accusations about, he's trying to persuade Lana to move out.  Besides Clark is always staring at Lex's ass like there's a secret treasure map printed on it.

 

"There is that." Lex shifts uneasily in his chair. The idea of Clark wanting his ass leaves him feeling equally nervous and excited.  He's never done that.  Not as a catcher.  He's always been more a pitcher, but with Clark, he wants to do something different; something as special as Clark is. 

 

Warrior Angel rumples Devilicus' dark hair.  How about showing him that pretty cue stick again? He gives the pool table a significant look, and then leers amicably at Devilicus.

 

"Take it easy on the felt this time, guys.  And for god's sake, keep the all the moaning to a minimum.  We have a castle full of guests trying to sleep.  At least, I hope the fuckers are sleeping instead of roaming the halls."  Lex takes the pill bottle and tucks it back behind the row of books.  He walks toward the door, and then pauses, "Oh, wait.  I almost forgot."

 

Warrior Angel grabs for his spandex as his partner tugs firmly at it.  He looks at Lex.  Is something...oh. 

 

Devilicus smirks.  His hands slide away from the waistline of his lover's costume to fondle the growing bulge behind the spandex.

"Carry on, guys.  Don't mind me." Lex closes down his laptop, and locks it away.  He smiles amiably at hero and villain as he turns back to them. "That reminds me.  We have a bet to settle."

 

Devilicus looks up in dismay.  His busy hands still.   Now?  Couldn't it wait a few hours?

 

Lex picks up the two action figures and smirks evilly at them.  "Now."

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

"Here.  Drink this."  A.C. holds out a cup of sugared hot coffee.

 

Oliver takes the cup and sips slowly at the warm sweet liquid.  It's only instant, and he hates sugar in his coffee, but right now, anything hot will do.  "Thanks."

 

"Are you okay?" Bart stares at Oliver, his dark eyes wide and shocked beneath the hood of his scarlet sweatshirt. 

 

"Just cold and banged up." Oliver nods and wraps his wool blanket closer.  Hard to look like a tough guy when shivering in blanket, but Bart doesn't need to see his fear; the youngest member of his team needs the reassurance of a confident leader right now.  Oliver summons up a carefree grin.  "Don't worry, Bart.  Takes more than a dunking to slow me down."

 

"I've seen some freaky shit since I've been part of this team, but that...damn.  Good thing we had all the explosives set before ol' River Monster paid us a visit.  Man, I've already showered twice, and cleaned my gear three times but I still smell monster guts." Victor gives his new duffle bag a mournful look.  "I'm gonna break out the bleach when I get home."

 

"What the hell was it?" Bart asks.

 

Oliver shudders as he remembers the monster's guts splattering all over the river as Luthor's lab went up on the banks. What had that thing been?  Some Luthor experiment escaped and gone feral? If A.C. hadn't been there when that mossy maggot creature attacked, he might have died.  "I don't know.  A.C.?"

 

The big blond shrugs.  He crosses his arms over his bare chest. "I don't know either.  I've never seen anything like it."

 

"Well, what I know is that you can put your shirt back on any time now." Victor frowns at his team mate.

 

"I don't like wearing clothes.  Be happy I've got the bottom half of my sweats on," A.C. taunts. "Get over it." 

 

Bart shakes his head.  "I wish we had a girl team member that felt like that."

 

"That would be too much to hope for.  We'll have to ignore the pecs and settle for A.C. keeping Mr. Happy and the boys covered up."  Victor gives A.C. a speculative look.  "You know, I got this neighbor who likes big blonds.  He's been asking about you."

 

"I am not gay." A.C. frowns at Victor.  "Why would you think that I would want to date your neighbor?"

 

"Guess all that pec flashing led me astray. Sorry." Victor looks from A.C.'s green sweatpants to the discarded orange tee shirt. "My neighbor wouldn't be caught dead in orange and green."

 

"Not everyone has my sense of style," A. C. responds complacently.  He looks at Oliver.  "You think that creature happened to be hanging out around Luthor's lab?"

 

Oliver drinks the last of his coffee.  "I wouldn't be surprised if Luthor had something to do with it."

 

Victor trades a worried look with A.C., before twisting in his seat to face Oliver. "Do you think that Luthor knows it's you?  That he had drew us in and had that creature waiting?"

 

"I don't know. I'm going to get dressed. My clothes should be clean by now." Oliver stands up.  He squeezes A.C.'s thick shoulder.  "Thanks, A.C."

 

"Any time." A.C. nods.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Lex tiptoes quietly into the guest bedroom that Clark had been assigned.  Had Clark figured out that this particular room connected to his own via a hidden passage and is intended for his spouse?  He's never allowed anyone to use it before.

 

He looks around at the white and royal blue stripped wallpaper.  A low banked fire burns behind white wrought iron fire screen.  Short lengths of cut wood wait nearby in a matching iron holder.  Lex walks over to the fireplace and sets Warrior Angel and Devilicus on the marble mantle.

 

He turns and smiles in approval at the massive custom bed with its red flannel sheets.  His smile widens as he studies the beautiful man spread across the bed.  Clark mumbles Lex's name.   His big hands flexes restlessly on the blue cashmere blanket covering the sheets. 

 

Lex sighs in appreciation as the sheets get pushed lower, baring the heavy muscles of Clark's torso.  He walks softly over the bed, and sets a bottle of his favorite lube on the night table.  Lex slips out of his clothes, impatiently tossing them onto a white wingchair.  He eases the sheets and blankets from Clark's restless hands and slowly pulls them back, baring the ridged six-pack and then ...Yes! Lex grins...a slowly thickening cloud of fine black curls instead of boxers.

 

His breathing quickens as he stares hungrily at the heavy slackness of the balls, and the limp jut of the big cock against Clark's muscular thighs.  Lex swallows, torn between sheer lustful greed and uncertainty.  Clark is every bit as massive as his most erotic daydream, but fantasy is one thing, and reality another.  Can he take all of that?  He has to or he won't be able to complete his half of the bonding.  His jaw firms with determination as he tugs the sheets all the way to the foot of the bed.

 

 


	13. A Smallville Valentine's Day (13/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe and Lois talk. Alexander arrives in a different universe than the one that he intended.

Chloe pulls open a dresser and finds neat rows of nightwear.  She riffles through the choices and puts out a blue flannel night gown with golden comets zinging across white clouds.  She adds a gold robe to her selections. "Have you remembered anything else?"

 

"No." Lois stares blankly at her reflection in the mirror.  Her long hair is piled loosely on top of her head.  She tightens the sash on her black terrycloth robe.  "I tried.  I hoped that I'd remember more.  Especially after I saw that damned fake tattoo while I was taking a shower."

 

"Fake tattoo?" Chloe glances at her cousin.  "When did you get a tat?"

 

"I don't remember.  During my Clark fixation apparently."

 

"You have a tat with Clark's name on it?"

 

"Had.  Had a tat with Clark's name on it.  I nearly scrubbed myself raw with a loofa, but I finally got it off." Lois glances disinterestedly down at the drawer.  She closes it without removing anything and leans against the dresser.

 

"And Clark's name ended up on your..."

 

"On my boob.  Okay?  It was on my boob."  Lois huffs.  She doesn't know why she bothered. Oliver probably wouldn't even notice.  Assuming the rat bastard was even here, and she could pry him away from his damned phone long enough to notice that she even has boobs, much less anything else about the girls.

 

"Oh." Chloe sits down on the massive four-poster bed. 

 

"Now, aren't you sorry you asked?"

 

Chloe taps her head.  "The inquiring mind...sometimes it's a curse."

 

"So did your inquiring mind make any inquiries into the state of the rumored engagement?  Is it on or off?"

 

"Why ask me?"

 

"Between Clark whining into one ear and Lana whining into the other one, you pretty much always know what's up at Casa Luthor."

 

"They do not..." Chloe sighs.  She flexes her shoulders, ignoring the strap of her evening gown as it slips down. "Okay.  Maybe they do, but they're my friends.  And I am not going to be an unnamed source for a scoop for you."

 

"I don't write gossip," Lois announces loftily.  "I leave that to the Cat Grants of the world, just as I leave the cutesy little human interest stories to Clark.  I write big picture stories...politics, business, science.  That sort of thing."

 

"And just which big picture category does a barn door falling from the sky apply to?  Science, business or politics?"

 

"Science since it deals with weather, and possible extraterrestrials."  Lois unpins her damp hair and shakes it out.  "With just a dash of human interest since a very beautiful young jogger almost got tragically squashed by the damn door.  How did things go with Jimmy on the big Valentine's Day?  Let me guess.  He gave you a case of whipped cream, right?"

 

"Don't even joke about that."

 

"Uh-oh," Lois teases. "Is there trouble in nerd heaven?"

 

"Like you and Ollie would win Couple of the Year Award.  You aren't in any position to give advice, Dr. Love Goddess.  At least, Jimmy and I managed some party time in between fights."

 

"His name is Oliver.  And we do so too party.  We party in ways that you can only dream of."

 

"It doesn't sound like much of a party to me.  Have you ever managed to get more than his shirt off before his phone rings?" 

 

Lois flicks her damp hair over her shoulder. "Whatever his faults, at least Oliver doesn't show up at my place with cans of whipped cream."

 

"You just had to bring up whipped cream, didn't you?"  Chloe stares down at the pajamas sfolded on her lap.  Lucas never mentioned the stuff, thank god.

 

"Shall I spot you a few cans for Christmas?  I wonder if Oliver has considered buying stock in whipped cream companies.  I'll have to ask."

 

"I thought you weren't talking to Oliver right now."

 

"We're not not talking," Lois protests. 

 

"Jimmy broke-up with me."

 

"On Valentine's day?  He couldn't have waited a couple of days?  That jerk! Want me to shove him off the battlements?  There's not enough of him to make much of a splat, but I'm willing to try."

 

"Thanks, but it's okay.  It was a mutual breaking.  I decided to hold out for a genuine frog prince.  No substitutes accepted." Chloe smiles at her cousin.  "I do like Jimmy, you know.  He's got a good heart.  He's just..."

 

"Not Clark," Lois finishes.  "How did that happen any way...you and Jimmy?  He doesn't seem like your type.  Or was that the whole basis of his charm for you?"

 

"It was one of those things." Chloe shrugs. "He was looking for fun, and I was looking to get over Clark and accept that he's never going to see me as more than a friend."

 

Lois nods. 

 

Chloe sighs. "Besides, I never thought that Jimmy would show up in Metropolis. It was supposed to be a fling. Why am I even telling you this?"

 

Lois grins at her cousin. "Because I'm a good listener.  It's why I make such a great reporter."

 

"I thought that was because you're pushy and nosy."

 

"That too."

 

"The sex would've been okay, if not for the whipped cream. But he's not..."

 

"Cllarrrk," Lois mocks gently.  She looks curiously at her cousin.  "What did you tell Clark when Jimmy showed up?"

 

"Clark?  Why would I tell Clark anything?" Chloe asks. "He had his chance and he passed on it.  Nothing to do with him."

 

"Uh-huh.  So tell me, did you and Clark ever...party?"

 

"Lois."

 

"Come on.  You can tell me."

 

Chloe sighs. "Our parties got about as far your and Ollie's parties get."

 

Lois pounces with a smirk. "Tell.  Give me all the boring details.  Preferably some that I can taunt Clark with.  Does he make funny noises?  Does he like to dress up?"

 

Chloe raises her eyebrows.  "You know, I'm really starting to wonder about your sex life now.  Does Oliver role play Robin Hood?  Does he wear the little green hat to bed?"

 

"How does Clark stand on the whipped cream issue?  What's the big guy's preference, Chloe?  Is he a traditionalist like Jimmy...a white whipped cream only sort of guy?  Or is he more of a chocolate or strawberry cream type?"

 

"Do you want to walk back to the apartment tomorrow? You ought to be thinking less about Clark's whipped cream preferences, and more about what you're going to tell Oliver."

 

"Crap. What am I going to tell Oliver?"  Lois shakes her head.  "No. No. Forget him.  Who cares what he thinks?"

 

"You do." Chloe looks at her cousin.  "What did you fight about this time?"

 

"Same song, second verse. Kissing, groping, phone call, you have to leave NOW?!" Lois sinks lower in her seat and frowns. "And as usual, the call came just when things were getting good.  We had yogurt and he was..."

 

"Yogurt?  Ollie likes to play with yogurt and you're making fun of whipped cream?"

 

"It was chocolate," Lois announces with all the dignity that she can muster.

 

Chloe smirks. "Oh, chocolate.  Well, that makes all the difference."

 

"Shut up."

 

XXXXXXXXX

 

Alexander stares around him.  What the fuck had happened?  The time in the dimension that he'd chosen had been in sync with the one that he'd come from.  But this is clearly not February.  Nor is it late evening here. He shrugs off his heavy wool coat and drops it on a black leather couch that sits in front of the empty fireplace.

 

The polished wood of the staircase leading to the ranks of matching bookcases that lined the library is reassuringly familiar.  So are the stained glass panels even if the warm dawn sunshine flowing through them hints of early summer.  Alexander tilts his head as he inspects the huge reproduction mural of Napoleon's coronation that stretches across one whole wall of the library. 

 

The door leading into the gardens is open, and he can hear the song of birds, and hum of bees.  Smell the heavy richness of roses and lighter scents of other flowers. He can see a clear and cloudless slice of blue sky.  What had happened?  It should be midnight, not early morning.  Winter, not summer. 

 

He's clearly in a version of Luthor Manor which is probably located in some version of Smallville, but which?  Where the FUCK is he?  WHEN the fuck is he?  Lex's scowl deepens as he notices a big black shoe peeking around the edge of the wet bar.  Glossy Italian leather if he's not sadly mistaken.  His own exact size as well.  Lex moves around the couch and walks over for a better view.  

 


	14. A Smallville Valentine's Day (14/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark makes love to Lex. Alexander discovers more about his new home.

There's cool, smooth skin under his hands.  God, it feels so real.  This is the best dream ever.  Clark pulls Lex close and rolls over, pinning the slimmer man beneath him.  He nuzzles the apple-scented sweetness of white skin.  His lips brush over the tightness of a nipple and he kisses it. "Lex."

 

"Clark."

 

He keeps his eyes firmly closed, despite the sensual invitation in the husky voice, afraid that the dream will vanish if he opens them.  He softly bites the beaded flesh beneath his lips. The bossy hands tangled in his hair are pressing him closer, and the demanding arch of Lex's chest under his sucking mouth are both good, but he wants  more.

 

Clark kisses his way lower.  Smiling as the squirming urgency beneath him transmutes into a breath-holding hopeful stillness.  Even the hands caressing his head are carefully neutral, allowing him to choose his direction.  He brushes his lips over the tickling borderline of copper curls as he thinks of what he wants to do. 

 

Although he'd demanded it from plenty of guys in the clubs of Metropolis, he had never offered to worship any of them that way and had laughed at any who'd dared ask him to rim them.  Kal didn't give worship; he took it as his just due.  But he wants to do that with Lex.  He wants to taste every inch of Lex.

 

Clark nuzzles the quivering length of cock.  He licks the damp juicy crown bobbing in front of him.   Ummmmm.  It tastes good.  Really good.  He greedily sucks the whole cock into his mouth.  There's a muffled, strangled exclamation overhead, and the bossy hands are back, tugging at his hair as Lex  thrusts into his mouth. 

 

How can anyone taste so very, very good?  Clark slicks his tongue over the sweet-salty thickness stretching his mouth.  He pulls off slowly, ignoring the aggravated yank of Lex's hands at his hair.  He kisses his way down, and feels Lex's pinned hips go still again as he licks the ripe curve of balls, and playfully nuzzles his way beneath to taste the tender strip of skin behind.

 

"Oooooh, Clark.  Please."

 

Clark grins as he feels his lover's legs folding over his shoulders, granting him free access.  He strokes his hands over the muscular thighs, savoring the trembling tension there as Lex waits for the very first touch.  Has anyone ever done this for Lex before?  He pushes the thought away.  This is his dream, and in his dream, he will be the first to taste Lex there.

 

"Do it," Lex urges.  "Damn it. Do it."

 

He spreads his lover's cheeks wide and touches just the tip of his tongue to the tender furl.  The needy shiver of Lex's hips and clench of long legs around his shoulders pleases him, and Clark turns his head to spread kisses over the tense curves of each cheek, rubbing the roughness of his stubble over the smooth skin.

 

"Clark, I swear, if you don't get on with ..."

 

He goes back to his target and gives Lex's a slow lick.  Ummmmm.  He spreads a series of soft exploring licks over the cleft, pausing a little longer each time on the delicate skin of the furl.  Clark listens to the pounding of his lover's heart, and the breathy moans as Lex jerks and twitches against him. He changes the pattern, firming the stroke of his tongue and flicking the tip rapidly over the tender center.  

 

"Godgodgodgodgodgod."

 

He circles, probing, and then he's sliding inside, avid for the secret intimate taste of his husband.  This he is certain is something that Lana has never had from Lex; something that is his alone.   He presses closer, shoving as deep as he can, flickering and curling his tongue as Lex trembles and shudders helplessly.  There's a hastily stifled scream of his name and then Lex comes apart for him.

 

Strange.  This is the part where he usually wakes up, lonely and sticky, to do the laundry.  Clark cautiously opens his eyes. Not a dream.  He grins as he stares at the lithe sweat-damp body spread in front of him. Clark kisses a limp thigh. "Lex. You're really here."

 

"Ummmm?" 

 

Clark eases the slack thighs off his shoulders, and wraps them around his waist.  He moves upward, drawn by the apple scent and the wet gleam of white skin.  He laps at the dampness on Lex's stomach and chest, licking his lover clean.  Clark lifts up on his elbows and gives Lex a determined look.  "You're mine now."

 

"Uh-huh," Lex murmurs agreeably. He pats Clark's shoulder. "Your's."

 

"My mate.  My husband," Clark insists with a soft bite to each dark pink nipple.   

 

"Do you hear me arguing?"

 

"Everyone thought that you and Lana were going to announce an engagement tonight."

 

"Did they?"  

 

"Yeah." Clark growls.  He gives the other man a little more of his weight, and rubs the unsatisfied ache of his cock against the curve of Lex's ass. "They thought that you and Lana belonged together."

 

Lex stirs at the probing stroke. "Their mistake."

 

"I don't want any mistakes.  I want everyone to know that we belong together," Clark whispers fiercely as he fits his hot cock between the inviting coolness of his husband's cheeks and thrusts. "And tomorrow, you're going to tell everyone that we are engaged."

 

"I am?"

 

"We're already married, Lex.  You don't have a choice.  You're mine."  Clark twitches at a sharp hard pinch on his nipple.

 

"Wrong." Lex glowers at him.  "I have a choice, but luckily for you, I choose this.  And you."

 

"Jeez, Lex." Clark rubs a soothing hand over his tender nipple.  "It's not like it's the first time you've been married."

 

"No.  And on the plus side, you haven't tried to kill me yet for my money yet."

 

"I don't want your money.  I want you.  I want a marriage like my parents." Clark pants as he strokes slowly over the furl.  He kisses Lex hard.  "I want it to be just us. No mistresses, one-night stands, or casual fucks.  No one else gets to have you."

 

"Will you agree to the same?"

 

"Me?"

 

"You."

 

Clark stares at Lex, his motion stilling in shock. "You think I'd...me! I'm not the one handing out diamond earrings by the handfuls like Halloween candy."

 

"I haven't done that in months.  And I wasn't the one giving Lois a tongue swab down in the ballroom."

 

"But ...that was...I wasn't."  Clark clears his throat.  "About that."

 

Lex raises his eyebrows. "Yes?"

 

"I wasn't myself."

 

"I noticed."

 

"It wasn't my fault." Clark relaxes as an idea hits him.  He rubs happily against his husband.

 

"Of course it wasn't," Lex murmurs dryly.  "I bet it was mine, wasn't it?  Go on and tell me how."

 

"I was fine until I went to the Talon's party."

 

"Umm. Even better.  Let's blame Lana." Lex nods against his pillow.  He rewards Clark by lifting his hips to give the brunette a better angle. "That works for me."

 

"Oooh, Lex." Clark groans.  "One of the vendors had drugged lipstick."

 

"Of course, they did."

 

"And Lois put it on."

 

"Of course, she did." Lex sighs.  He thrust his own reviving cock against the alien's stomach.  Rolling into his husband's strokes with more enthusiasm as his own arousal grows.

 

"She kissed me, and then..."

 

Lex narrows his eyes. "Did you fuck her?"

 

"No!"

 

"Hmmm.  Which vendor?"

 

Clark replies firmly, "It doesn't matter, and you don't need to know."

 

"Are you sure?" Lex wiggles provocatively as he stretches over toward the nightstand.  He grabs the bottle of lube and holds it in front of Clark.  "I think I do.  LexCorp was one of the sponsors for that stupid party, and I am a silent partner at the Talon, so yes, Clark, I do need to know."

 

"No, you don't." Clark snatches the bottle away.  He uncaps it and spreads the lube over his fingers.

 

"Clark Kent," Lex warns. "You tell me which of those fuckers...god."

 

Clark grins and slides his finger deeper inside Lex, watching the hungry arch of his lover's body and the quivering rise as the rosy cock lifts higher.  He asks mockingly, "Tell you what, Lex?"

 

"What?"  Lex rolls his hips into the slow, teasing finger fuck.  "I'm not that easy to distract."

 

"Oh, yeah?" Clark carefully eases a second finger inside.  "I'll have to try harder then."

 

Lex groans.  He grabs the wide span of his husband's shoulders and pushes back against the fingers stroking and stretching him wider.  "Which...which...oooooh...vendor?"

 

"I dunno," Clark lies as he slides his fingers free and squirts more lube onto his hand.  He slick up his cock and sets the head against the eager twitch of Lex's body. 

 

"You're lying.  You think that I don't know when you...godgodgod." The sharp intelligence in Lex's gray eyes softens into a dazed pleasure. 

 

Clark carefully inches deeper.  A proud grin flashes across his face.  He's never seen Lex in such an intense sensual bliss-out except in his dreams.  He moves in slow shallow thrusts, slipping deeper each time.  He watches the dazed gray eyes for any flicker of pain, but he sees nothing in Lex's gaze but a melting pleasure as his balls press against his husband's up-turned ass. He eases partially out and then back into the glorious tightness.  After several thrusts he picks up the pace, only to pause, panting, at a sudden hitch in his husband's breathing. "Lex?"

 

"No." Lex tightens his thighs.  "No.  Go on."

 

"Lex, if I'm hurting you, you tell me."  Clark stares sternly down at the human, his eyes gleaming orange in the dim light. "I don't want to hurt you."

 

Lex rolls his eyes.  "It didn't seem to be a problem when you threw me into that table."

 

Clark looks away.  "I didn't mean to."

 

"Yes, you did.  No one throws a guy like that by accident.  We're both lucky that I know how to take a fall." 

 

Clark waits, trembling with the strain of remaining motionless in the tight grip of his husband's body. "I'm really, really sorry about that Lex.  I would never hurt you."

 

"No?  Shall I list every bruise that you've left on me?  Every time you've shoved me?  Every time you've even dared to hit me?"  Lex bucks upward, taking Clark deeper.  "God, that's good.  Don't you dare stop on me now when it's a good hurt."

 

Clark winces at anger layering the desire in other man's hoarse voice.  He kisses Lex. "I don't mean to.  Not when I'm myself."

 

"That stops now, Clark.  I won't tolerate being roughed up.  I won't tolerate being pushed and shoved.  I've allowed it to go on long enough.  There will be no more."

 

"I didn't mean...I won't.  Never, Lex, I promise. Please," Clark whispers.  He can hear the thickness of tears in his voice.  What if Lex doesn't forgive him?  What if Lex sends him away?  Refuses any contact with him?  Those dread possibilities had never occurred to him.  "Lex, please?"

 

Lex leans up to kiss his husband. "If I had been anyone else...someone who didn't heal fast, someone who didn't have the kind of martial training that I've had...someone like that could have been hurt badly tonight."

 

"I won't.  Never again." Clark moans as Lex's palm slides to the center of his chest.  He shudders at the pain-pleasure of the throb beneath his skin as his scar surfaces, spreading outwards from the hot touch of his husband's hand.  He looks down at the scar and then uncertainly at Lex.  What if his husband thinks it's ugly?  He asks shyly, "Does it bother you?  Do you think it's ugly?"

 

"No. Do you?" 

 

Clark looks down at his chest with a doubtful expression.

 

"Look at it," Lex's fingertips glide along the curved lines.  "Look at the graceful sensuality of these curves, coiling like serpents between the diamond lines of the angles.  See how the spread of the design draws attention to these," he pauses to pinch each beaded nipple, "to the width of your chest, and then arrow down to draw attention to this."  Lex shoves back against the thick invading cock. 

 

"You really think it's attractive?"

 

"Yesss." Lex pulls Clark closer. "I need this.  I need you. Fuck me, Clark.  Make me scream so loud that half the castle runs in here."

 

Clark glances warily at the next bedroom.  He relaxes at the reassuring racket of his dad's snores.  He gathers Lex closer, and begins thrusting gently into the tightness clenching around him. "No screaming."

 

Lex laughs breathlessly as he rocks into his husband.  "Where's your sense of adventure?"

 

"This is all the adventure that I need."  Clark pants against Lex's sweat slicked chest.  He mouths the temptation of the freckles splashed over the other man's shoulders.  "You're all the adventure that I want."

 

"I'll try ...to...uuugh...live up to my billing.  Come on, Clark," Lex urges.  "Do it.  Fuck me.  Harder.  Harder.  More.  Or I swear, I'll yell so loud...oooooh, godgodgod, yeesss!"

 

Clark collapses on top of the damp, slippery length of his lover.  He's never felt so exhausted in life.  Not even when he'd lost his powers.  He presses a kiss on the closest freckle.  He drifts off to sleep as he wonders how he's gonna tell his parents, friends, and the Justice Team.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Alexander frowns as he stares down at his dead double.  This not the one that he'd been spying on.  That one had been a few years younger.  This one is either quite a few years older or the double had spent way too much time on the party hardy circuit.

 

At least his double is conveniently out of the way.  He owes someone an appropriate thank you.  His double lies at his feet, tuxedo stained with scotch and other fluids.  Alexander glances at the decanters gleaming on the mini-bar, and the single glass resting on its side on the floor. 

 

Had it been his...the double's dad this time?  Or some other enemy? He'll find out in time, but for now...Alexander folds the expensive rug over his double's body...he's got a body to hide.  Time for a trip to the Luthor crypts in the castle chapel, followed by a little mop-up operation.

 


	15. A Smallville Valentine's Day (15/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Lois tries to her photos from Cat. Lana discovers Clex in bed. 

_ **A Smallville Valentine's Day (15/22)** _

A Smallville Valentine's Day (15/22)

By BeTor

Spoilers: Seasons One through Six. This story is influenced by 'Crimson', 'Onyx'. 

Pairings: Clex, Lois/Oliver, Chloe/Lucas Luthor, and Warrior Angel/Devilicus. Plus Alexander and his very own a/u Clark.

Disclaimer: They belong to DC Comics.

Rating: NC-17 Mature adult audiences only. Erotica.

Summary:  Lois tries to her photos from Cat. Lana discovers Clex in bed. 

 

 

Cat Grant sits at her desk, studying the digital pictures neatly lined up across her monitor screen.  It'd taken the better part of the night and many promises to protect her source, but she'd managed to get Oliver Queen's private cell phone number.   Lois has been flaunting that handsome blond millionaire long enough.  If she sees one more photo of Queens smiling face looking over Lois' shoulder, she going to puke all over the ladies room floor. 

 

"Cat," Lois shoves open the door.  She stops, staring at the pictures glowing on the laptop.  She holds up a silver bucket filled with tequila bottles and lemons.   Two glasses dangle from her other hand.  "Look, I come in peace.  Can't we talk about this?"

 

Cat enlarges the image of Lois wrapped around Clark like a hungry python swallowing a wild pig. "This one is my favorite.  What do you think?"

 

"I think that's one of those oh-my-god-what-was-I-drinking moments.  Come on, Cat.  Don't."

 

"Don't?  Don't what?  What are you afraid that I'll do with these pictures?"

 

"You want an 'in' to the next Luthor event, don't you?" 

 

Cat caresses her mouse as she watches the woman who had just gotten her pass to Luthor Party Land permanently revoked.  Where does that idiot think she picks up the hottest gossip if not by cultivating the people that she met through those parties?  "After the shit you and the hick himbo pulled at tonight's party, there's no 'in' to be had for any Daily Planet reporter."

 

"Sure there is.  Let's not be hastily here." Lois glances nervously at the pictures. 

 

"Why not?"

 

"I can get you in the next party.  Courtesy of being a friend of a friend of Luthor," Lois winks, "if you follow my drift."

 

"I suppose you mean your cousin."  Cat sighs.  She had noticed that Sullivan seemed to be very tight with the rumored Ms. Luthor-To-Be.  Two ditzs in a pod if anyone asked her.  Could she swallow accepting a favor from the hyper blonde twit who'd beat her out of the job at the Inquisitor? 

 

"So, we're good?" Lois smiles brightly.  "I get you an invitation and you don't  do anything rash?"

  

"Rash?  You mean something like crashing a Luthor party with a guy who roughs up Lex and kisses Lex's new girlfriend.  That kind of rash?  No, that's not my style, Lois." Cat smiles, wide and cold.  She taps her mouse and widens her eyes in mock dismay.  "Ooops. I wonder where those went."

 

"Cat!  You're going to pay for that."

 

"I can handle anything you've got.  Bring it on, chickie."

 

"Oh, really?"  Lois sets her bucket on the desk with a thunk.  She smacks the two glasses down.  "I bet you can't."

 

XXXXXXXXXX

 

He's so damned hot.  How can he be this hot when a shrieking wind is splattering snow against the windows, Lex wonders sleepily.   He pushes at the blanketing heat and his hand slides off a muscular arm.  What? Oh. He opens his eyes and discovers Clark's tousled head crowded on to his pillow.  A strong arm is curled over his chest and a possessive thigh is locked over his hips.  Lex squirms.  He pushes more firmly at Clark's arm, but he might as well be trying to move an elephant by strength alone.

 

Oh, well.   He doesn't have to go to the bathroom that bad.  Yet.  And this is very nice. Lex kisses the edge of his lover's shoulder.  He's awakened to much worse situations than being weighted down on a bed by a ton of Clark.  Devilicus and Warrior Angel are beaming at him from their perch on the mantle.  Lex shifts his hips the scant amount of space that his husband's thigh allows. 

 

There's only a pleasant ache to remind him of earlier activities.  How can Clark sleep like that?  So deeply and peacefully.  Lex twitches restlessly.  His feet shift beneath the sheets.  His fingers tap against Clark's arm.  His mind fills with lists of things that he needs to do.  Check on his guests.  Get a status report from security. Check on the weather.  Check on Alexander.  He turns his head and eyes the cell phone sitting next to the lube bottle on the nightstand.  Can he reach it?  He stretches his arm toward it.  His fingertips just brush the case.

 

He turns his head as he hears sounds coming from his bedroom and then the door is flung open, and he sees Lana outlined against the lights that he'd left on.  Lex pats Clark's shoulder soothingly as his husband frowns and makes grumpy noises.  Devilicus scowls and even Warrior Angel watches with a frown as Lana stands there.  Lex sighs.  "What, Lana?  Is the storm getting worse?  What?"

 

" What are you and Clark doing?" Her long dark hair slides over the shoulders of her white satin robe as Lana moves into the room.  Her eyes widen as she stares from his bare chest to Clark's.  "What is going on?" 

 

Clark rolls over, taking all the sheets and blankets with him.  He buries his dark head in the pile of pillows that had mysteriously accumulated on his side of the bed.  His big feet stick out from the edge of the bundle. 

 

"Lex?" Lana squeaks.

 

"Mmmmm."  Lex stretches luxuriously, making no attempt to conceal his nudity. 

 

"You and Clark are...you're..." Lana draws in a sharp breath.

 

"Uh-huh." Lex yawns.  "We are indeed."

 

"You were supposed to marry ME!"

 

Lex sits up.  "What gave you that idea?"

 

"But you sent me to Paris!  You told me to look at wedding gowns!  You gave me diamonds!"

 

"Oh, diamonds." Lex shrugs.  On the mantle, he can see Devilicus making go for it gestures at him while Warrior Angel gives him a look of shocked disapproval. "I thought you understood, Lana.  Didn't you read any of the newspapers when I was framed for murder?  I give all my casual fucks diamonds."

 

She hisses. "How could you."

 

He muses aloud, "I'm thinking of a platinum band for Clark. Or perhaps white gold.  We really haven't had chance to discuss it."

 

"You asked me to move in!  You gave me a Valentine's party!"

 

"Does the word 'beard' mean anything to you?" Lex asks over the sound of Devilicus' sniggers.

 

"You bastard!" Lana stomps out the door and slams it.

 

"Huh?" Clark stirs beneath the sheets.  "Whazzat?"

 

"Nothing, love," Lex croons soothingly.  He strokes the tangle of dark curls sticking out from beneath the hem of his sheets.  "Go back to sleep." 

 

Warrior Angel frowns.

 

"What?  I haven't forgotten about your new frame.  Silver, right?" Lex sighs in mock aggravation as the hero continues to stare at him.  He gives Warrior Angel a sly look from beneath his lashes. "Oh, all right.  I'll send her some diamond earrings tomorrow.  Happy now?"

 

Warrior Angel folds his arms over his chest as Devilicus giggles happily at his feet.  One of these days, Clark is going to give Lex the villain ass pounding of the century, and when it happens, he is going to laugh.

 

"If you think that's going to discourage me," Lex trades a smirk with Devilicus, "have you got a lot to learn about villains." 

 

 

 

 

 


	16. A Smallville Valentine's Day (16/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe encounters Lucas.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Ninja Barbie Babe."

Chloe groans and leans her forehead on the locked door leading to Lex's private office.  Normally she would fiercely resent the Barbie comparison, but considering that she was busily attempting to break in Lex's office, maybe she should let it go this time.  She turns with a hopeful smile. "I don't suppose you would believe that I'm here to repair something."

"Believe me, there's nothing wrong with that lock."

Chloe feels strangely breathless as she meets his eyes.  She had always thought she preferred men with black hair and blue eyes, but this man's dark chocolate eyes, tousled cocoa hair, and pale skin makes her lick her lips and think of hot chocolate sprinkled with marshmallows and cinnamon and chocolate shavings.  "Oh?  Tried it already?"

Lucas shrugs, flexing his wide shoulders against the wall.  "What can I say?  I got bored."

Chloe slowly looks him over.  His jeans are loose, but fit perfectly, hinting discreetly at an intriguing series of muscles and bulges beneath.  A brown sweater molds his solid shoulders and biceps.   Her gaze snags on the heavy links of a black metal chain.  The flow of the links is broken by a circle that rests just below the hollow of his throat.

It looks like a collar, a real collar, a serious collar; the kind that she'd spent hours looking at online, and used to fantasize about snapping around Clark's throat.  Lucas tilts his head back against the wall behind him and the thick circle falls perfectly into the hollow of his throat, drawing her gaze to the pulse throbbing beneath.  Chloe forces her gaze upwards to find his stare intent on her face.  "So did you get in or not?"

"I got in."

Chloe waves toward the door.  "How about getting me in?"

"What would I get out of it if I did?"

"The satisfaction of doing a good deed?"

"I think you have me confused with someone else.  What are you hoping to find in there?"

Chloe shrugs.  "Maybe I'm looking for a tennis bracelet to go with my diamond earrings."

"You aren't the diamond earring type."

"I would look fabulous in diamonds." Chloe sighs softly.  Unfortunately on her current salary, it will be a long, long time before she can buy herself that sort of thing. 

"I'm sure you would, but you aren't the sort that my brother would send diamonds too."

"No?  Maybe you don't know him as well as you think.  Maybe he has a secret fetish for blondes."

"There's no secret about Lex's preferences in partners.  Leggy brunettes only need apply.  What are you expecting to find in his office?" Lucas asks. 

"Oh, chairs, desks, safes .  The usual."

"Sounds boring.  I found a note suggesting that I entertain myself some other way, and a list of recommended escort agencies in his office safe." His gaze wanders slowly over her.  "But I'm not in the mood to check out his recommendations."

"No?"

"No." Lucas pushes away from the wall.  "You want some coffee?"

"I always want coffee."  Chloe pads down the hall, following him to the kitchen.  She measures the width of his shoulders beneath the sweater, before her stare follows the flow his body to his narrow waist, and hips.  The swagger makes her smile even as she wants to touch him and feel the relaxed power rolling through his muscles with each stride.  She'd never managed to meet the lost Luthor heir when he was in Smallville, but Clark and Lana had had plenty to say about him.  "Why haven't you been back to Smallville?"

"Places to go, things to do.  You know the drill." 

"Lex is your brother.  Don't you want to spend time with him?"

"Don't worry.  I get plenty of quality fraternal time.  Just not here."  Lucas holds the kitchen door open for her.

"Why not?"

Lucas glances at the shadows pooling around the dim glow of the few lights that were always left on.  "It's safer for both of us if Lionel thinks he can play us off each other.  United we'd eventually be too big a threat."

"Oh."  Chloe touches his arm, feeling the warmth beneath the brown wool.  "I'm sorry.  Having Lionel for a dad must be difficult." 

"We manage." Lucas walks opens a cabinet and looks over the sealed rows of bags.  "So what blend do you want?"

Chloe eyes the selection and finally taps her finger against one of the packages. "The Columbian."

"Coming up."  Lucas measures the beans into the grinder.  He hits the switch and dull rumble fills the kitchen.  He shuts it off and reaches for the coffee pot.  He glances over his shoulder.  "Don't expect anything fancy.  No frothing.  No steaming.  Just a plain, solid cup of java."

"Solid's good."

"I think so."  Lucas crosses his arms over his chest.  He leans against the counter as the coffee perks.

"Why did you start cyberflirting with me?"

"I was looking for someone solid."  Lucas looks at her.  "I know you thought that I was playing you."

"At first." Chloe nods.  "It seemed a little too coincidental that you happened to run into me in a chat room.  I had a feeling that you knew exactly who you were talking to."

"I did.  I paid someone to get me the list of different screen names and email accounts that you used."

"Why?"

"I was curious.  I didn't spend much time with Pete or Clark, but your name came up frequently.  My brother and father had a few things to say about you as well."

Chloe stares at him in dismay.  She had been a topic of conversation among the three Luthors.  That could not be good.  

"You have courage and intelligence.  Those are qualities that my brother and father admire, even in the opposition." Lucas gives her an amused look as he pours coffee into the pair of the white, gold rimmed cups. "Would you like milk?  Cream?  Sugar?"

"No, thanks." Chloe breathes in the wonderful scent as she accepts the proffered cup from Lucas.  She takes a sip.  "Perfect.  Is that why you kept in touch with me?  Because I've gone up against your father and brother?"

"Because you survived."  Lucas stirs cream into his coffee.  He lifts the spoon to his lips and slowly licks away the lingering traces of cream as he stares into Chloe's eyes.  "Anyone smart enough to score a victory over either of them, and to survive long enough to savor it, is worth some...service."

Chloe blinks, dragging her gaze away from the promise of his full mouth.  Is Lucas hinting that he wants to do the kind of things that she's secretly read about for years?  Where had this man been when she had been in Smallville?  She glances at his necklace, admiring the strong curl of the metal again the sturdy column of his throat. "Service?"

"If you could demand anything, what would you request?"  Lucas takes a drink of his coffee.         

Chloe tilts her head and considers.  "I always wanted to drive one of Lex's Porsches."


	17. A Smallville Valentine's Day (17/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark dreams and then talks to Lois.

Summary:  Clark dreams and then talks to Lois.

 

 

 

Clark walks slowly down the Crater Lake pier, his bare feet padding softly across the sun warmed wood.  He takes a quick glance around the tree-shadowed shoreline and tugs off his loose red trunks.  He poses on the edge of the pier, ready to dive into the soft blue water, but suddenly there are light footsteps behind him.    

 

“Hello, Clark.” Lana moves around him, a white lace teddy hugs her figure.  Her slender fingers glide over the muscles of his chest. 

 

He jumps as something icy-wet and sticky smacks into the center of his back, sliding down his spine. Clark looks sharply around to see Chloe.  His old football jersey clings damply to her curves and she's holding a plastic cup.  Glittering pink letters spell 'Try the Talon's Cherry Ice!' across the white cup.  He shudders as the shaved ice of her frozen drink slithers messily down his spine and gooses his ass.  "Chloe!"

 

She gives him a wide-eyed stare.  "Oops.  Sorry, Clark.  I tripped."

 

"Tripped?" Clark directs a pointed stare at the unobstructed width of wooden planks between them.  "On what?"

 

"Don't be sore." Chloe drops her empty cup on the wood.  She reaches for the hem of the jersey. "I'll be happy to clean up my spill.  But all I have to wipe it up with is this."

 

"Chloe!" Clark gasps in shocked protest, but he can’t stop himself from staring as the hem clears her thighs, then a neat vee of gold topped by her pale stomach, and – Clark swallows heavily as he sees soft, white curves, ripe pink nipples puckered tight and then her shoulders, and smiling face as she pulls the shirt completely off.  He flushes with the mingled heat of embarrassment and desire. 

 

Lana glares at Chloe. "That's not necessary.  A quick dip in the lake will take care of it, won't it, Clark?"

 

Talking?  She's expecting talking?  When there's bare Chloe?  Clark's gaze slides back to Chloe as she walks toward him, hips and breast swaying as his jersey dangles carelessly from her hand.

 

"I said, 'won't it, Clark?'" Lana snaps. Her eyes narrow as she looks from Clark's flushed face to Chloe's grin.  “Clark? Clark!”

 

"Huh?" Clark manages as Chloe walks into his chest, the rich roundness of her breasts pressing against him.  Droplets of lake water bead over the whiteness of her skin, making her shimmer in the sunlight like some ancient goddess as her cool hands slide down his stomach. 

 

Lana huffs.  "You spilled it on his back, not his front."

 

“Is that right, Clark?  Should I be rubbing your back or your front?” Chloe purrs as her hands dip lower.

 

“Chloe. Please. I can't," Clark protests. 

 

"You look like you can to me," Chloe whispers as she strokes him.

 

Clark groans.  "I can't.  Please."

 

"Why not?" Chloe nuzzles his shoulder.

 

"I..." Clark bites his lip. Can he tell them yet that he's a married guy now and this isn't right?  He looks around for Lana, but she's gone. "What about Jimmy?"

 

"Jimmy who?" Chloe leans up to kiss him.  She draws back and stares over his shoulder with an annoyed expression.  "Eeeew.  Could you get some clothes on?  Some things I prefer to save for my nightmares." 

 

Clark tries to turn and see who's behind him, but he can't.  He waits, feeling the pier vibrating with the confident stride of whoever is approaching.  Then hands settle on his back.  That touch he would know anywhere. His skin shivers under as the caressing warmth spreads over his shoulders, exploring the flow of his muscles, and easing down his waist to boldly cup his hips.  He moans and melts back against Lex.

 

"Damn it, Clark."  Chloe is staring at them, blue eyes snapping with aggravation.  "When I think of all the time I spent wondering why you didn't want me. You coulda just told me!"

 

Clark opens his mouth to call after her as she stomps off, but the words evaporate as Lex licks his back. 

 

"Ummmmm, cherry Clark. My favorite flavor."

 

Clark gasps as Lex moves down his back, sucking and licking the melty cherry ice from his skin.  The warmth of his lover's mouth pauses at the base of his spine. Surely Lex isn't going to go any lower because that would be such a bad, wrong thing; the kind of thing that he hadn't been able to get enough of when he'd been spending his nights in Atlantis.  Clark trembles with anticipation as his cheeks are spread apart.  Lex's wicked tongue strokes over him, licking away all traces of cherry ice.  The slow, soft strokes gradually change into a circling firmness that makes him beg until he's silenced with a slick, wet thrust inside. 

 

"Lex!" Clark yells as he falls back on the mattress.  Red flannel sheets flutter around him as he bounces.  He elbows a pillow aside and rests there as his pounding heart gradually slows.  He looks around in the dim glow of the light falling out of the bathroom.  Is Lex in there?  A quick peek reveals that the bathroom is as Lexless as the bedroom.  He squints at the bedroom next door.  Still no Lex.  Where is his new husband?  What time is it?

 

He peers at the glowing dial of the clock.  Midnight.  Shit.  He sits up running a hand through his hair.   Clark bites his lip.  What if he's a snorer and he drove Lex away?  How do you know if you snore? His dad's a real roof rattler and his mom's used to the noise after so many years so it's not like they would've noticed.  What if he's got some sort of super snore?

 

Maybe he should bundle the sheets up, and sneak down to the laundry room so Lex will return to fresh clean sheets.   Clark wipes himself off with the sheet's hem.  He could simply leave these in the laundry room and go looking for a linen closet, but washing them won't take much time, and there shouldn't be anyone else roaming the halls at this hour. 

 

Is anyone else up or it is just him and Lex?  He sweeps a quick scan over the surrounding floors and bedrooms.  Sleeping.  Sleeping. Talking. Reading. Talking. TV. Sleeping. TV. Internet. Reading. Sleeping. TV. Walking. Talking. Talking. Reading. Fu...oh, god, that's his parents!  He claps his hands over his eyes. Oh, God!  Ohgodohgodohgod.  Now he's traumatized for life.  His eyeballs will fall out. He did not want to know that his mom and dad even knew about that, much less did it. 

 

He lowers his hands at the quiet sound of footsteps.  Is that Lex returning?  Maybe his husband had staged a kitchen raid.  His stomach rumbles hopefully.  Clark squints through the door and sees Lois.   Shit. He freezes in dread as he watches the doorknob turn. How much of the night does she remember?  Flying to Metropolis?  Drinks at Atlantis?  Oliver's office couch?  The flight back to the castle?  Clark clutches the sheets against his bare chest as Lois opens the door. "Lois, what are you doing here?"

 

"There you are.  Do know how many bedrooms I've looked in?"  Lois grins at him and closes the door behind her.  "God.  You wouldn't believe some of the things that I saw."

 

"Lois," Clark protests.  What if Lex comes back and finds her in here with him while he's naked?  That wouldn't be good.  "This isn't the time."

 

"What's wrong with it?" She tosses her hair over the shoulder of her robe and staggers slightly with the motion.  "It's not that late."

 

Clark breathes in and smells tequila.  "You're drunk!"

 

"Hah!  Shows what you know.  Takes awwwaaayyy more than a mere bottle or two or," Lois strolls crookedly across the room and sits, almost missing the foot of the bed. She frowns, and pauses as she counts on her fingers, "well, more to get me sloshed.  But that Cat, she can't hold it. Ya' know what I mean?"

 

"You were drinking with Cat Grant?  I thought that you didn't like her."

 

"I don't.  Bitch."  She pats Clark's toes in reassurance. "Her. Not you.  But I got her back. Drank that skinny skank under the table.  She's gonna be soooooo sick tomorrow.  Even sicker when she sees what I did with her email account while she was out."

 

"Does Chloe know that you're running loose in the castle like this?"

 

Lois sniffs disdainfully.  Her eyes widen.  She sniffs again and then gives him an evil smile.  "I'm sorry, Smallville.  Did I interrupt  something?  A personal moment?"

 

Clark glowers at her.  "Why are you here?  Can't you get enough of me at work?"

 

"In your pitiful dreams."

 

"What do you want, Lois?"  

 

"I want to know what you know about tats."

 

"Tattoos?  Why would I know anything about tattoos?"

 

"Nice try, Clark.  Are you going to tell me why your name was on my boob? Or do I have to beat it out of you?"

 

"What  makes you think I know anything about it?"  Clark asks warily.

 

"Don't make me call Chloe."  

 

Clark gives her a blank look back.  "I don't know anything about your tattoo."

 

"With any other guy, I'd think he slipped me something, and I would already be beating his ass."

 

"I wasn't the one running around drugging people with lipstick," Clark protests.  "I was minding my own business when you pounced on me.  Didn't Chloe fill you in on that?"

 

"She told me.  How was I supposed to know that lipstick was freaky?  It wasn't like there was a warning label on the tube."

 

Clark stares at her. "How long have you been living here?  It feels like a century or two at least."

 

"Don't look at me like that.  How was I supposed to know it was bad lipstick?  Do you check your shaving cream for unauthorized additives?"  Lois sighs loudly.  "Halibut, give it a rest.  I already got that lecture from my cousin.  I'm trying to apologize here.  I'm sorry that I kissed you while under the influence."

 

Clark narrows his eyes at her.  "I'm sorry that I kissed you, too.  Are we done now?  Don't let the door slam on your way out."

 

"Now, don't be like that.  We can't all be worthy of the hot fudge sauce rating." Lois slaps his calf.  She stands up and hesitates, "Umm, Smallville, there wasn't any...we didn't...no fish stick got dipped in hot sauce tonight did it?"

 

"No, Lois." Clark glowers at her.  "The fish stick had better things to do."

 

"Of course, it did."  Lois gives him a patronizing smile.  She glances at the room.  "How come you got a biggest bedroom than I did?"

 

"What can I say, Lois?  I found someone who knows a quality fish stick when he sees it."

 

"Oh, really?  So where is he? Hiding under the bed?  Really, Clark, who'd want to get up close and personal with your..." Lois stares at the ghostly white marble busts of Alexander, Julius Caesar, and Napoleon arranged on the bookcase.  She leans closer, peering at the action figures frozen in a lewd pose on the mantle.  "Oh.  That explains a few things.  Does Lana know about this?"

 

Clark winces.  "I'm not sure."

 

"Your parents?"

 

"Not yet.  I'm gonna tell them tomorrow."

 

"Breakfast was never my favorite meal, but now I can hardly wait."  Lois grins as she opens the door. "Let the games begin! See you tomorrow, Halibut."

 


	18. A Smallville Valentine's Day (18/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe/Lucas. Cat pounces on Clark.

Chloe pulls onto the parking slot.  That had been amazing, even if it was just a slow drive around the levels of Lex's personal garage.  Just being in such a car is a fantasy come true.  Driving it, and feeling all that sleek power moving so responsively to her lightest touch, is an erotic experience in itself.  She gives the stick shift an affectionate squeeze. "That was amazing."

 

Lucas shifts in the passenger seat.  His gaze goes to her hand on the stick.  "I liked watching you drive."

 

"Did you?" Chloe turns her head alertly at the hoarse note in his voice.  She studies the dark heat simmering in his eyes and smiles slowly.  Most guys she knew would have been watching her every move with nervous eyes, and giving a list of cautions and instructions instead of relaxing into the passenger seat.

 

"Not everyone can handle such a powerful car with such control."

 

Her smile widens at the faint emphasis on 'control'.  Chloe trails her fingers suggestively around the tip of the stick. "It was so strong and responsive.  Who wouldn't love to drive a car like that?  This isn't going to get you in trouble with Lex is it?"

 

"Lex doesn't need to know everything that happens in one of his cars."   

 

"No, I suppose not."  Chloe looks in the waiting darkness of his eyes.  She could just melt into that dark chocolate gaze.  Her glance sweeps over the lean lines of his body, noting the subtle tension spreading through his muscles.  Does he hunger for the same things that she does?

 

"Driving is good, but some prefer to be passengers, providing they can find a driver good enough to take them where they need to go," Lucas suggests softly.   

 

"Tell me something.  Are you still wearing that collar you had on earlier?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Who gave it to you?"

 

"I did.  It's waiting for the right leash, just like I'm looking for the right driver."

 

"And if you find one?" Chloe asks slowly.  What exactly kind of 'driver' is Lucas hunting for?  There are some roads that she isn't willing to drive down, and others roads that hold no interest for her, and some routes that leave her feeling like she can't get out of the car fast enough.  

 

"I would be interested in a something long term and exclusive.  Assuming I found the right driver for my vehicle." Lucas looks steadily back at her.

 

"Oh.  I could agree to that...assuming I found the right car to drive."

 

"Are you currently driving one that suits?"

 

Chloe shrugs.  "I've looked at several, even kicked the tires on a few, but I haven't found the right one for me yet."

 

"Oh?  I had the impression that you had been evaluating the same car that my brother is interested in."

 

Chloe stares at him. "You think I'm interested Lana?"

 

Lucas snorts.  "You think that Lex is interested in Lana?  No, he's interested in the truck next door." 

 

Lex wants Clark like that? Chloe stares at Lucas as she readjusts her thoughts.  "Are you sure?"

 

"I know my brother."  Lucas leans his head back as he studies Chloe.  "How do you feel about the truck next door?"

 

"That particular truck did have its attractions, but I find that my preferences in vehicles have changed.  I'm much less interested in trucks these days, and more interested in test driving more exotic rides." Chloe reaches for the belt on her robe and slides it free of the loops.  She watches as the pulse beating in Lucas' throat speeds up.

 

"Yeah?" Lucas reaches out and touches the trailing end of her belt.  "I could go for a test drive."

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Clark drapes his washcloth over the warm yellow counter in his bathroom.  There's blue porcelain bowl filled with shaved ice and studded with bottles of water and fruit juice. He takes a bottle of water and sips it as he studies at the various pairs of pajamas fanned out across the counter. 

 

All in his size.  He'd assumed when he first walked into the bathroom that Lex had merely grabbed some random pajamas from the emergency guest closet.  But a second, longer look had made it clear that these had been purchased with him in mind.  How long had Lex had these?

 

A smile tugs at his mouth as he eyes his choices.  There's two flannel numbers and two silk.  And all four of them are enough to make him wonder if he will find clothes in his size in the closet tomorrow morning.  Clark shakes his head at the yellow flannel printed with cartoons of little green men piloting flying saucers.  "Very funny, Lex."

 

The next pair is blue flannel printed with Warrior Angel figures.  Clark touches the bare curve of the hero's head and admires the gray slashes of eyes.  The last two pairs are silk; one each in his favorite red and blue.  He's not really in the mood for red right now, but the blue, blue's always good.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Clark walks out of the laundry room, and pads down the dimly lit hallways toward the kitchen.  He can't tell Oliver the truth.  Well, not the alien truth. Should he tell Oliver that he'd been exposed to a drug, and he really, really didn't remember anything at all about Lois, or her breasts?  No.  Probably best to stay far, far away from any explanations involving Lois' breasts. 

 

Besides he might be worrying about nothing. Maybe there are no cameras in Oliver's office.  Maybe no one sent Oliver any photos of him and Lois kissing in the ballroom.  Clark walks inside the industrial chrome and white brightness of the kitchen.  It lacks the air of comfort that his mom's kitchen has, but it's satisfyingly empty of other guests.  

 

Maybe he should simply keep his mouth shut and look stupid if Oliver asked about Lois.  Looking clueless had worked fairly well for most of his life.  Or he could go for broke and tell Oliver who he really wanted since none of it sounded remotely believable.  It's not like he isn't going to have to tell Oliver about Lex any way. 

 

Clark pauses in front of one of the shiny silver fridges and addresses his reflection. "You thought I wanted Lois?  Don't be silly, Oliver.  No, I want Lex, you know, the guy that you and the rest of the team thinks is evil incarnate. Yeah, that Lex.  Lois' breasts are all very nice, and everything, but have you noticed Lex's ass?"

 

His reflection stares sardonically back at him. Clark sighs and opens the door. Party leftovers.  Excellent.  The first thing he always wants after coming down from Red K is sleep, and after that  food.  He eyes the selection with interest.  There's an assortment of mushrooms stuffed with different things.  Tiny individual potpies.  Bite-sized quiches.  A variety of tiny cheesecakes and cupcakes and tarts.  Vegetable dips.  Seafood dips.  Crab cakes. Salmon slivers.  Bitty sandwiches cut into fanciful shapes. Fish eggs.  He wrinkles his nose.  He'll leave the fish eggs for someone else. 

 

Clark grabs a platter of sandwiches and piles other platters on top.  He munches as he explores the contents of the next fridge.  Oooh, jackpot! Beer.  Tonight is more a beer sort of night.  Clark grabs a bottle and thumbs the cap off.  He takes a drink as he sits down at the table to demolish his loot.  He polishes off the stuffed mushrooms, and begins alternating the vegetable quiches with the seafood quiches; cucumber sandwiches with the turkey and ham sandwiches.  Clark drains his beer and sighs with satisfaction. 

 

Now all he needs is some Lex and he'll be a happy alien.  He cares his platters over to the sink and pauses, staring at the assortment of rinsed and dirty dishes sitting in the big white sink.  Looks he's not the only kitchen raider to strike.  Clark rinses his platters and adds them to the stack.  His beer bottle goes into the recycling bins hidden beneath the sink. 

 

He turns back to the fridge, and opens the door, grabbing a fresh bottle.  Clark bends over the rows of shelves, studying the selections.  Maybe he should bring a few drinks up for Chloe and Lois as a peace offering.  Couldn't hurt.  Lois could use a little something to sober up. What should he get?  There's fruit juices and water.  Milk.  Hmmm, are those bottles of flavored coffee drinks?

 

Something gooses his balls and Clark squeaks.  He jumps, and whirls around to find Cat Grant leering drunkenly at him.  Oh, god.  He's only distantly aware of the fridge door slamming shut behind him as he stares at the tall redhead.  "Miss Grant!  You have to stop doing this."

 

"Call me, Cat."  She makes a purring noise at him. 

 

Oh, god.  He's gotta get out of here now.  Clark presses against the smooth metal door of the fridge.  He measures the distance to the exit with a quick glance.  "Miss Grant, please don't make me have to report you."

 

Cat tosses her hair over the shoulders of her leopard print pajamas.  "You know, you didn't look nearly so prim when you were sticking your tongue down Lois' throat in front of the important half of Metropolis."

 

"That was business," Clark lies desperately.  "Undercover operation."

 

"Business, huh?"  She slowly looks him over, lingering at his groin, before making her way back up to his face.  "Business works for me."

 

Clark stares blankly at her.  What does she mean?  He flinches as she steps forward and reaches toward him, but her long-nailed hands only settle on his shoulders.  He stands, frozen as she straightens the lapels of his pajamas, and smooths them over his chest. 

 

"In fact, a business relationship suits me perfectly.  Before we talk price, how do you feel about free samples?"

 

"Miss Grant," Clark begins sternly only to freeze in shock as her hand snakes down to boldly cup his cock and balls.  She draws back, startled as his cell phone rings.  Clark slithers away from between her and the fridge, clutching the dubious protection of his bottle and phone.  He skips quickly out the door.  "Gotta take this call.  Gotta go."

 

 


	19. A Smallville Valentine's Day (19/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver arrives at Luthor Manor. Cat corners Clark.

Lex pours two snifters of brandy and walks back to his glass-topped desk.  Devilicus and Warrior Angel are already there, keeping a stern eye on his latest guest.  And Ollie is certainly worth looking at tonight. He smiles with satisfaction as his gaze goes to the bedraggled looking man sitting in a chair in front of his desk. 

 

Ollie is sitting with careful stiffness of a guy who's been nicely battered and banged up.  Red scratches decorate one tanned cheek, and the cropped hair has the slightest mossy green tint.  The long olive coat draped over Ollie's shoulders is intriguingly tattered, particularly around the hem.  His guest's matching trousers appear to have suffered a similar fate. 

 

"Here." Lex pauses next to his guest's chair.  He offers a snifter and a benevolent smile. "You look like you could use one of these.  Rough day at the office, Ollie?"

 

"Oliver. And what do you know about my day?"

 

"You sound like you think that I should know something about it.  Sorry to disappoint, but I've been much too busy with my own affairs to be concerned with those of minor competitors."

 

"Queen Industries is not minor."

 

Lex circles his guest, amused at the way Ollie shifts stiffly around to keep him in sight. "I'm afraid you're too late for the party."

 

Oliver tilts his glass and studies the dark liquid suspiciously. "I didn't come here for the party, Lex."

 

"No? That's too bad."  Lex moves around his desk and takes a seat in front of laptop.  Warrior Angel leans against it, and the way the hero's stare drifts ever so slightly toward the snifter seems to hint that in his opinion it's rather early for that sort of thing.  Lex ignores the hero and takes a sip.  "You missed a memorable one."

 

"I'll get over it."

 

"Of course, you will." Lex gives Ollie the sort of distant, pitying smile that says he knows better, but he'll be polite and pretend to buy it.  He hides a grin at the flex of muscles along his guest's jaw.  "Perhaps your busy schedule will permit you to attempt the next one.  I have a very big event coming up soon.  You wouldn't want to miss it."

 

"Oh?  Some new business deal to announce?"

 

"No, no.  This is more of a personal event.  Not to say that it won't impact LexCorp in a positive way."

 

"Otherwise what's the point, huh?" Oliver takes a very tiny sip of his brandy. 

 

"What indeed."  

 

"I take it that I need to send my secretary shopping for a wedding gift.  Did Lana decide on the traditional June wedding with all the works?"

 

"I'm not sure which month Lana intends to honor with her wedding, but June seems like a safe bet." Lex nods amiably.  Which month will Clark want?  March wouldn't be sufficient time to arrange the kind of large scale event that he has in mind.  Even April would be pushing it. 

 

Perhaps May.  It's an equally traditional month.  Definitely before November; he can't wait to attend his first family holiday meal at the Kent house as Clark's husband.  Will the Kent's invite Ollie?  Then he can have twice the fun looking at those two long faced blonds moping over their turkey.  It will be the best family holiday that he's had in years. Lex winks at Devilicus.  He can't wait.

 

"Perhaps Lana would like some guard dogs.  Not that your peacocks don't do an excellent job." Oliver takes a bigger drink of his brandy.

 

"Peacocks?" Lex blinks. He studies Ollie's tatters with renewed interest.  Had the Luthor Manor peafowl mutated?  He'll have to get one of his scientists out to take a look at the pests.  "I believe my dad did acquire some when after he finished rebuilding the castle; the farmers weren't very happy about it, but my dad didn't care.  I haven't noticed the birds doing anything particularly interesting."

 

"I was ambushed by a flock of the bastards between your gates and your front door.  You expect me to believe that you know nothing about it?" Oliver demands.

 

"Mostly they scamper around the grounds shrieking. Are you seriously suggesting that I have trained attack peafowl?" Lex shakes his head pityingly.  What a splendid idea! If mutated peafowl were smarter than the usual creatures, the things that he could do with them.  "I believe that they do eat frogs.  Perhaps all that green you're wearing confused them."

 

Oliver finishes his brandy and sets the snifter on Lex's desk.  "Never mind the damned birds. I came to take Lois home."

 

"Even Lois has more sense than to go out into a storm with you when she already has perfectly adequate shelter. And if you think she's going to leave her cousin behind..."

 

"Of course, I know she wouldn't leave Chloe here. I would never expect her to.  I want both of them safe."

 

"Both girls are perfectly safe here.  Or as safe as they want to be."

 

Oliver sits up and stares hard at his host.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"Chloe seemed to be enjoying my brother's company at the ball.  Of course, like all the Luthors, Lucas is an excellent dancer."

 

"Probably all that tap-dancing practice you Luthors get in with the media." Oliver narrows his eyes.  "Not to mention local politicians and zoning boards."

 

"It never hurts to be a well rounded individual." Lex smiles mockingly. "Shall I have one of my staff show you to Lois' room?"

 

"Are you out of guest rooms?  In this pile of rock?"

 

"Oh, like that is it? Shall I assign you bodyguards as well?"

 

Oliver glowers. "I realize that this might be difficult for you to understand, but not everyone incites their girlfriends and wives to homicidal mania."

 

"We all have our burdens.  Mine is being a man who inspires great passion.  Some times in the most unlikely places.  Would you believe there's a guy who likes to dress up in tight green leather and blow," Lex allows only the faintest of pauses and emphasis, "up my assets?  He must be quite desperate for my attentions."

 

Oliver breathes in sharply and turns red.  "I think you over estimate your attractions.  Not everything is about sex."

 

"So says the man who drove through a blizzard to protect his girlfriend from...is it my wiles, or Clark's wiles, that you are concerned about?" Lex looks into Ollie's angry eyes and smiles.  "Clark and Lois put on quite a show in ballroom, but you already know that, don't you? How many calls did you get about? Fifteen? Twenty?"

 

Oliver sets his jaw. "My relationship with Lois is none of your business."

 

"Perhaps not.  But your relationship with Clark is of great interest to me.  And I will not have you upsetting him tonight."

 

"Me? Upset him!" 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Clark drinks the last of his beer and sets the bottle on top of the washing machine.  He smooths the neatly folded squares of flannel sheets one last time.  He eyes the bottle; he hates to simply leave it for Luthor staff to clean-up, but he can't face returning to the kitchen and risking another encounter with Cat.  He's already had to reassure his parents that his absence from the bedroom is due to a harmless case of the munchies.   

 

He opens the door and strolls out of the laundry room, carrying his sheets. His eyes widen in horror as he spots Cat leaning against the wall.  Oh, god.  He'd thought that she would be sleeping on the kitchen table by now.  Clark hugs the sheets to his chest like a shield. 

 

"Heellllooo, handsome. I've got a little something for your big something."  She loses her balance as she waves folded bills at him.  Cat catches herself against the door frame, and makes purring noises at him. 

 

Oh, god.  Ohgodohgodohgod. Clark picks up his pace as she adds a porn star lip lick to her repertoire.  He uses a burst of speed to zip past her groping hands.   

 

"Don't get shy on me now, Clarkie.  How much for a peek at the goods?"

 

Clark glances over his shoulder.  She's staggering along behind him, still waving money.  Oh, shit.  Where's a meteor freak when you really really really need one?  Preferably one that likes drunks.  Clark hurries into the closest bathroom and locks the door behind him.  He flinches as she scratches the door and makes rrraaowing noises.

 

He sets his sheets down on the toilet lid, and flips open his phone.  His finger hovers over the number pad.  Not Lois; she's probably sleeping off whatever she'd gotten wasted on.  He could call his parents, but if they decided to go for round two after checking up on him ...no.  Seeing his parents engaging in non-parental acts in full x-ray vision splendor had been bad enough; he does not want the surround sound version. 

 

Chloe or Lex?  Lex or Chloe?  It's almost like fate the way his choices so frequently narrow down to those two.  Either one would rescue him, but he will never be allowed to forget being trapped in a bathroom by a drunken woman.  Clark flips his phone closed as he imagines his future.  He'd be getting cat plushy toys that mewed.  Cat cards, cat calendars, cat tee shirts, and cds of cats meowing Christmas carols. 

 

No.  No, he's an adult.  He can deal with this.  If he can face down mutants and aliens and criminals, he can deal with one drunk, purring, arroawing woman.  He can do this.  He can.  Clark straightens his shoulders, and strides out only to end up pressed back up against the wooden door with Cat plastered against him.  "Miss Grant!"

 

"I thought we agreed that it's 'Cat'.  Rrrrrroaw."

 

"Miss Grant," Clark responds firmly.  "You have to stop this."

 

"Want the money up front, hmmm?  A wise policy." 

 

Clark watches in stunned horror as she holds up a folded bill.  Why, oh, why had Met U seen fit to make him take a whole semester of Philosophy of Journalism, but hadn't offered any classes on dealing with workplace perils like this?

 

"I should think that would be enough for a quickie." She tugs at the hem of his flannel top. "Take my advice, baby, and put it into your advertising budget.  Buy yourself a nice suit.  Some silk boxers."

 

"Miss ...Miss..." Clark squeaks and scrabbles desperately back against the wooden door as he feels her fingers fumbling at his waistband.  The door gives away behind him and they hit the floor with a wall rattling boom.

 

Clark groans and closes his eyes as he hears the surge of running footsteps and then the rising sound of whispers, sniggers, and giggles.  He is not opening his eyes.  He might never open them again.  There's sudden silence, and a familiar voice.

 

"Clark?"

 

He reluctantly opens his eyes to see a ring of Luthor security staff, putting away various weapons, standing around him.  Oliver and Lex are standing at the forefront.  His gaze skips over Oliver's tanned face and stunned brown eyes to focus on Lex.  He instantly feels more confident.  "Hi, Lex."

 

Cat rrraoowws and sits up.  Her hands spread over his chest as she struggles for her balance. "Wha-wha happened?"

 

Oh, shit.  He's gotta get rid of her before she revives enough to start groping him again.  Clark gives Lex a pleading look.  "Could someone do something about her?"

 

"Looks like someone already is." Oliver smirks.  He glances at the thick door and his smirk deepens as he looks at Clark.  "Wow, that's thick door.  How did it get knocked down like that, Clark?"

 

Oh, shit.  Someone had sent Oliver photos of him and Lois. Shit, shit, shit.  Clark tries to think of something, anything to tell the semi-circle of watchers.  Weak hinges?  Bad door knobs?  Drunks? "Ummm ...It...you see, I was..." 

 

"Kalotermitidae," Lex announces firmly.

 

"Kal-whatsis?" Oliver turns his stare on Lex. 

 

"Dry wood termites."

 

"Termites," Oliver repeats with a frown.

 

Lex smiles with slow condescension.  "Yes, Ollie.  Termites.  The door clearly shows the characteristic signs of infestation.  These little gaps in one's knowledge will occur if one passes one's classes largely by way of purloining exams."

 

"I know what termites are!" Oliver glowers.  "And it's Oliver!"

 

Clark grabs Cat's wandering hands.  "Ummm, Lex, help?  Please."

 

Lex catches the eyes of a man with dark, curly hair.  "Have someone escort Miss Grant to her bedroom.  See that she stays there."  He turns a smirk on Oliver.  "And escort Mr. Queen to Miss Lane's room."

 


	20. A Smallville Valentine's Day (20/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander has his first meeting with his a/u Clark.

Alexander coasts up the familiar drive, engine silent, and headlights off.  He parks near the barn and gets out, staring up the weathered building.  Like Luthor Manor, this too is familiar, and not.  The loft doors are firmly closed, and he turns his head as spotted mare pokes an inquisitive head over the fence.  He doesn't remember the small herd of horses.  A large white stallion joins the mare.  Alexander takes an involuntary step back as the stallion eyes him in disconcertingly predatory fashion. 

 

He looks around at the sound of a quiet thud and sees a fluffy white cat making itself at home on the hood of his black Porsche.  He frowns.  Clark has a cat?  He always thought of Clark as more of a dog kind of guy.  Alexander stills at the sound of a low, rumbling growl coming from behind him.  He slowly looks away from the cat to see a blocky white dog standing stiff-legged between him and the yellow farm house.

 

Sskkkerrrcchhhittt.  Alexander whips his head around to stare in disbelief at his hood.  Rough curls of thin black metal wobble over his formerly pristine hood.  The white cat looks back at him and stretches its paw over the hood again.  Ssskkeerrcchhhhittttt. 

"Stop that!" Alexander takes a step toward the cat, only to stop as the dog's growl gets louder.  The entire herd of horses is now lined up at the fence, watching the show with interest.  The big stallion shakes his head; his gaze seems almost mocking as he peers through his forelock.  The cat stretches and yawns widely, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

The loft doors swing open overhead and a youthful voice calls down, "What?  Why are guys making all that racket? Just because my dad likes to get up at the crack of dawn doesn't mean ...Luthor!  What are you doing here?"

 

Alexander looks up, straining to see more of the shadowy figure leaning out of the loft. Perhaps the angle is throwing his sense of perspective off, but the youth doesn't look as tall as the Clark that he knows or as heavily muscled.  The voice is similar, very similar, but something is not quite...

 

"Answer me, Luthor!" The boy lobs himself from the loft and drops lightly to the ground.  The dog promptly trots over to lean against the kid's denim clad legs.  The boy scowls at Alexander.  "What do you want?"

 

Alexander catches his breath as the first rays of dawn hits the boy's face.  This, this he had never expected.  It had never entered his calculations as the faintest, remotest, wildest possibility.  Not after that long ago meteorite had rendered him sterile.  All his careful plans go spinning away as he stares intently, his artist's eye picking out the traces of his gawky teen-aged self in the youth's face.  Does the boy know?

 

Those eyes...the bright teal is all Clark, but the long narrow shape is all his.  The full mouth is Clark's, but the angry scowl twisting it is his.  The high cheekbones are Clark's, but the faint roundness that softens those edges is his.   The chin is his, but the stubborn angle is pure Clark. The boy's skin is almost as delicately smooth as his, but the paleness of it is warmed with the rich golden undertone. And the boy's hair is black instead of red, but straight instead of falling in soft waves like Clark's.  How?  How had this happened?  How had Clark and his double in this universe managed to have a child together?

 

"I asked you a question, Luthor!" 

 

"Conner."  Clark walks around the barn.  "You're going to miss the bus."

 

Alexander smiles at the wary way that Clark's gaze goes from the boy to him and back.  Conner might not know what he is to the boy, but Clark does.  Good.  He'll deal his way into their lives with any card that he has.  He's not giving up this chance to have a family of his own.   He had sought out a universe that held a tender young Clark to seduce and play head games with, but this is so much better.

 

His gaze goes to the flannel clad farmer staring back at him.  The heavy shoulders stretching the red plaid shirt look deliciously biteable as do the shadowed circles of dark nipples showing beneath the sweat damp white tee.  Dark stubble dots Clark's cheeks and gives the alien an intriguingly raffish air.  Loose jeans successfully conceal Clark's lower body from him.  

 

"What are you smirking at?" Conner snaps.  He reaches down to pet his dog, never taking his stare from Alexander.

 

Clark walks between the two them.  "Conner.  School.  Now."

 

"I'm not leaving you alone with him.  What if he's got a box of ...you know...stuff?" Conner gives his dad a significant look.

 

"Then we're both in trouble, aren't we?" Clark runs a hand through his curling hair.  "Conner..."

 

"Oh, for god's sake! Look," Lex holds his black suit jacket open, "no, Kryptonite." He ignores Clark and Conner's sudden twitches at the word.  Alexander turns a commanding stare on the boy.  "I'm only here to talk to Clark.  That's it.  I promise.  Now go catch your fucking yellow bus."

 

"Lex!" Clark glares at him. 

 

Alexander sighs.  "Trust me, Clark, by his age, he's not only heard the F word, but he's used it too.  Perhaps even already performed the very act."

 

Conner's smirk disappears as Clark turns an alarmed glance on him.  The boy glares at Alexander.  "Gotta go, dad.  School's important.  You wouldn't want me to miss any of it.  See ya'."

 

 


	21. A Smallville Valentine's Day (21/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Lex tease, talk and have sex.

Clark glances around at the sound of a lock clicking closed.  Lex is leaning against the library doors, staring at him.  No, staring at his...Clark blushes.  His first impulse is to yank his pajama top down to cover his cock.  His second, he leans back against the glass top of Lex's desk, and watches from beneath his lashes as the other man blatantly stares at the drape of snug blue silk over his shaft and balls.

 

He indulges in some staring of his own, admiring the loose-limbed grace of his husband's body beneath the soft lines of charcoal sweater and black trousers.  He loves the way Lex moves, like moonlight flowing across the floor like moonlight.  His gaze rises to Lex's face.  There's a faint beguiling flush on pale skin that makes him think of ripening apples at dawn, and the scarred quirk of Lex's lips make him want to bite and suck and taste.   Clark sighs with longing. "I'm really sorry about the door and everything." 

"Are you?" Lex walks closer, his smoky gaze drifts upwards.  He curves his marked palm over Clark's cheek.  "Everything?"

 

"Maybe not everything."  Clark turns his head and kisses the cool palm.  He touches the tip of his tongue to the tiny ridges of the mark.

 

Lex shakes his head. "You come to my party with Lois wrapped around you, and now I have to pry Cat Grant away.  What am I going to do with you?"

 

"That's wasn't my fault!" Clark straightens his pajama top with a snap of fabric.  To his horror a hundred dollar bill drifts to the floor, landing between the toes of Lex's black leather shoes.  Oh, god.  He stares at it.  How's he gonna get that back to Cat without further embarrassment or groping? Maybe he can slip it under her door and speed away.

 

"A little short on the rent this month, Clark?  You should have said."

 

"Lex!" He looks up, outraged and red-faced.  The quirk of Lex's mouth does nothing to soothe him. 

 

"A mere hundred, Clark?  Shame.  It doesn't seem quite adequate for indulging a kink that involves cat noises."

 

"I did not...she just shoved that money," Clark stops and stares into the cool silver of his husband's eyes.  "Lex, you aren't going to...do anything to her, are you?"

 

"I hear that Alaska is lovely this time of year."

 

Clark shakes his head.  "Lex."

 

"Am I making a mistake?  Were you enjoying yourself out there?"

 

"No! Of course not, but Alaska, Lex?  Everybody in the newsroom knows how much Cat hates Kansas winters.  Sending her to Alaska would be cruel."  Clark touches Lex's shoulder.  "Lex..."

 

"Very well, I can compromise."

 

Clark eyes his husband suspiciously.  "You can?"

 

"I'll send an invitation to the wedding, and a brochure for Alaska to her.  She'll get the message."

 

That he can live with.  Such an unusual willingness to compromise like that deserves a reward. Clark leans in for a kiss. He touches his tongue to the scar on Lex's upper lip before pulling back slightly.  "Lex, I need to know about something. Oliver says ..."

 

"Oliver." Lex sighs.  "I might have known.  You listen too much to him. What does dear Ollie have to say?"

 

"That you have secret projects."

 

"Of course, I have secret projects.  Otherwise know as R&amp;D.  You think Queen Industries doesn't have a Research and Development division?  At least, I don't go around blowing his buildings up.  Although I may begin doing so, if Ollie doesn't stop destroying LexCorp assets.  Perhaps I should start sending out itemized bills," Lex adds in thoughtful tones.

 

Clark blinks at the implications.  If Lex knows about Oliver and the Justice team's activities, does Lex know that he was involved in some of that?  His heart sinks as he imagines the look on his dad's face if a bill for blown up LexCorp stuff shows up in the farm mailbox.  He'd never really been comfortable with all the destruction that Oliver claimed was necessary, but it hadn't occurred to him to wonder if Oliver might have other reasons for targeting LexCorp.  "Is Oliver a business rival, Lex?"

 

"I wouldn't deign to dignify him with that description.  On his best day, he's no more than a minor pest." 

 

Oh, shit.  How much of the stuff that they'd done had been more about causing LexCorp problems, and less about destroying evil Luthor research?  He should have asked more questions, but it'd been so easy to believe Oliver and he'd been so excited to find the kind of camaraderie that he had with the Justice team.  Oliver seemed so open and friendly and warm compared to cool closed face that Lex had been showing him lately.  Now he doesn't know what to believe. 

 

What if Lex had been trying to do something good instead of something bad?  When had he forgotten that while many of Lex's projects went off on freaky tangents, it had been a desire to make things better that had given birth to them?  Had Oliver been a little to ready to assume that Lex had bad intentions?  Had he been a little too ready to listen in his hurt over Lex's sudden interest in Lana?  "Lex.  Are you...doing things?"

 

"I plan to be doing you."  Lex begins unbuttoning Clark's pajama top.  "Possibly on top of my desk.  Maybe the couch.  I haven't decided yet."

 

"Lex, please. Are you doing stuff?  With Kry...meteor rock?" 

 

"Okay. Yes, Clark, I'm 'doing things' with mutants and kryptonite."

 

Clark twitches at the word.  Where had Lex heard it?  How did Lex know that was the proper name for meteor rock?  He's certain that he'd never used the term around Lex. He nervously clears his throat. "Kryptonite?"

 

"Interesting how the same substance has so many different effects."

 

Clark frowns as it suddenly occurs to him that Lex has asked him very few questions about anything tonight, and seemed surprised by very little of it; as if Lex somehow already knew.  "Lex? How do much do you...what do you know?"

 

Lex nibbles at the fullness of Clark's lower lip.  He whispers against the pink curves, "I know about the planet that you came from."

 

Clark shivers.

 

Lex plants a kiss at the edge of his husband's mouth. "I know what Zod had planned.  And I know that nobody...nobody...is ever going to possess me, use me to destroy everything that I care about like that again.  No matter what I have to do." 

 

Zod?  Lex remembers being Zod?  Remembers what Zod knew?  Damn.  Clark makes a small distressed sound and slides protective hands over the beautiful, fragile curve of Lex's head.  "Lex, I would never..."

 

"Idiot." Lex bites the younger man's earlobe. "Of course, you wouldn't, but Zod...he was going to use me to kill you, to destroy the world.  I was so...I didn't think I could stop him."

 

Clark gathers his husband close.  He can feel the fear, the remembered horror in the fine tremors running through Lex's muscles.  God.  With those memories driving him, no wonder Lex had been walking into darker and darker places in search of weapons and answers.  Clark scatters soothing kisses over the bareness of his lover's head, and wraps his arms tighter around Lex's slim body.  "He's gone Lex.  Zod's gone. You don't need...you don't have to do stuff with meteor rock."

 

"Are you telling me that he's dead?"

 

"No.  I sent him back to...he's in a prison."

 

"People get out of prison, Clark. And you can't tell me that Zod doesn't have followers, or that all the aliens out there are like you. Earth has to be ready to defend itself."

 

Clark hesitates over the assurances that he wants to give.  Lex is right.  All the aliens out there aren't good ones, and as much as he'd like to promise protection, he isn't sure that he can make good on it.  He'd come so close to losing the fight with Zod.  But he can't sit and watch Lex harried deeper into darkness by fear and anger.  "I can understand that, and I don't disagree with it.  But Lex, you have to promise me..."

 

Lex lifts his head.  "Promise you what?"

 

Clark looks into haunted gray eyes and whispers, "That you'll be careful about what you choose to study and how.  Careful about which projects you put your resources into.  That you will stay out of questionable areas. That you won't do anything that will force me to leave you." 

 

"Yes." 

 

"Good." 

 

Lex smiles, suddenly radiating seductive temptation.  "In fact, why don't you leave the Daily Planet and work for me?  You could be in charge of my R&amp;D division."

 

Clark snorts. "With a journalism degree? Right." 

 

"You could go back to school." Lex places a kiss at the base of Clark's throat.  "Take more science courses." His tongue dips teasingly into the hollow.  "Business classes."

 

"Because statistics and economics are loads of much fun."   Clark slides his hands down to spread over his husband's flanks.

 

"I'd create a special position, just for you." Lex runs a fingertip down the center of Clark's chest.  He circles the dip of navel, and follows the narrow arrow of dark hair leading downwards.

 

"Wow, and I'd be ever so popular at work too." Clark tries not to whimper at the slow, curious brush up and down the fine line of hair.  His stomach muscles ripple with the need to push into Lex's touch. "Almost as popular as I was in high school. Plus my dad would be so proud." 

 

"You would see every project and have access to all the details.  You would be the guy who gives the final green light to which avenue of research is approved and which isn't.  Complete oversight of all projects, including the secret ones.  And you wouldn't be the only one with a proud dad to deal with, you know."

 

Clark hooks a finger in Lex's sweater, pulling the neckline askew to bare pale skin.  He sucks the sweet white flesh into his mouth.  Yeah, Lex putting a lover in charge of a large division of LexCorp would really draw Lionel's fire.  "You don't have to offer that Lex.  I wouldn't ask for your promise, if I didn't believe in it, and in you."

 

"Maybe I'm the one who doesn't quite trust myself in this.  Whenever I think about Zod, I get so enraged." Lex pauses before quietly adding, "And so afraid. I lose perspective."

 

"You really want this?  You want me to be your perspective?"

 

"I want it.  And think of the perks, Clark.  You can set your own hours."

 

"Sex with the boss."

 

"Free college classes."

 

"Lex." Clark arches as his lover's hand slides lower, cupping him through the silk.  "I just got out of school.  That's like saying I get to plow fields when I'm not at LexCorp.  That's not a perk."

 

"It could be.  With a little imagination." Lex squeezes lightly. "Every test you get an A on, we'll do something extra special."

 

"Now that's a perk."

 

"It feels like something else is perking." Lex eases down the blue silk bottoms.

 

"Lex." Cark groans.  His hands tighten possessively over the hard arc of his husband's ass.  He runs his fingers down the cleft.

 

"You do know that the whole lack of tentacles is a severe disappointment to me," Lex whispers as his hand closes around the velvet length of his lover's cock, and strokes.  "I had expectations, Clark."

 

"What sort of expectations?" Clark gasps as he pushes into the teasing looseness of the other man's fist.

 

"I expect a lustful and wanton alien love god chase me around the castle at least once a day."

 

"I could do that."

 

"I expect to you to rip off my clothes and do wicked sexy things to me until I faint from the force of my orgasm."

 

"Oooh." Clark blushes as he thinks of all the things that he wants to do with Lex.  He leans forward to kiss the fading mark that he'd left on Lex's throat. "I can do that.  I think.  I'm willing to practice every single day."

 

"That's the kind of attitude that I believe in encouraging." Lex slides to his knees.  He rubs his cheek against Clark's stomach.  "I fully expect to be compensated for the whole lack of tentacle."

"What I want to know is what have you been watching?" Clark gives Lex as stern a look as he can manage as the tip of his lover's tongue damply teases his cock. "That's it, mister.  No more wandering around the science fiction section of the DVD store by yourself."

 

"That wasn't the DVD store; that was the porn channel.  Alien Kink Week always gets me hot." 

 

"You're making that up.  There is no Alien Kink Week."

 

"Oh?  Are you sure about that?" Lex curls his tongue over the crown..

 

"Ohhhhh, god."  Clark slides his hands around Lex's head.  "Of  course, I'm sure." 

 

"Shows what you know.  It's on after Meteor Mutants Gone Wild."

 

"Now that's a show I'd like to see."

 

"Would you?" Lex takes Clark's cock into his mouth. 

 

"Oh god, oh god, oh god."

 


	22. A Smallville Valentine's Day (22/22)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver/Lois get interrupted by the Justice League. Clex. Alexander gets his Clark.

Oliver tests the rope again, but he's firmly tied and stretched naked across the massive four poster bed.  His phone rings tauntingly from the wingchair on the far side of the room.  He lifts his head.  He can't even see his phone; it's buried beneath the careless jumble of his clothes.  It's been ringing with increasing urgency for the last hour.  Either he has a business deal going down the tubes, or the Team ran into trouble on their mission.  He yanks his wrists hard, but only succeeds in dislodging the silk scarves that had been protecting his skin from the roughness of the rope.  "LOIS!"

 

"Yes, Oliver?" Lois steps out of the bathroom.  Her long legs are covered with sheer thigh high black stockings.  There are a few inches of bare tanned stomach between the top of her tiny pair of emerald velvet panties and the bottom of a black lace corset.  Her breasts shift enticingly in the cups as she sways toward the bed. 

 

"Lois," Oliver breathes hoarsely.  He groans as she leans over him, giving him an even better view of her breasts.  He hates to discourage this, but he's got to get her to let him have that phone.  He'd known when he chose this double life that he'd have to face some tough choices, but he'd never expected them to be this tough. "Lois. Please."

 

She smiles and sways over to the bed.  "'Lois, please'?  I like the sound of that.  I expect to be hearing a lot of pleases before this is over."

 

Oliver reluctantly looks away from the goddess standing next to him to the chair hiding his frantically ringing phone.  "Lois.  I really need to answer that."

 

Her smile cools.  "Tell me why?"

 

"It's complicated."

 

"Isn't it always?" She sets her pail on the nightstand.  Her hands settle on her hips. "Try explaining it to me then."

 

Oliver glances at the pail.  His eyes widen as he sees a pair of small silver spoons stuck in the shaved ice amid cartons of chocolate cheesecake yogurt.  He whimpers.  "Lois, I can't."

 

"Unhuh.  Much too complicated.  Got it." She smirks as she climbs on the bed and kneels over him.

 

"I didn't mean it like that, but I need to answer the phone.  It could be important."

 

"We're important.  We've had this discussion before, Oliver." Lois slides her hands up his chest and leans closer.  She brushes her lips lightly over his. "I'm the most important thing that's ever going to happen to you.  More important than your cell phone and any call that you will ever get."

 

"Lois." Oliver twitches as his phone rings again.

 

"No.  This phone addiction of yours is going to stop.  Nothing is going to come between us and Jamaica.  Except," Lois teasingly rubs her hips over the heat of his cock, "my velvet panties if you keep being bad."

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Alexander sits very still at the Kents' kitchen table.  Clark's warm hand cradles his as the alien stares down at the mark on his palm.

 

"It's real," Clark murmurs in a dazed voice.

 

"Of course, it's real," Alexander snaps.  He tries to jerk his hand away, but Clark doesn't release him. 

 

"But how?  When?  I don't remember ..."

 

Alexander adopts a hurt expression, and tries to channel Lana.  "You don't remember?  How can you not remember?  Everything I've done, I've done to protect you, to protect our son."

 

Clark frowns.  "But what about..."

 

"I can't believe you're going to sit here and quibble over trifles.  After all I did for us so we could finally live openly together as a family.  And you don't remember!" Alexander bounces out of his chair and turns his back on Clark.  He pretends to stare out the window as he checks Clark's uncertain reflection.  The other man wants to believe him.  He can see that in the softening teal gaze and the considering tilt of black brows.

 

He allows his shoulders to slump.  He slowly bows his head, listening to the creak of the wooden chair as Clark rises. Alexander adds a very faint sniff and lifts a hand from a quick brush over his eyes.   Too much? Not enough? Yes!  He keeps his gaze lowered to hide his triumph as big hands settle lightly on his shoulders. 

 

"Lex.  I,..."

 

"Alexander!  You said that I would always be Alexander to you."

 

"Well, uumm, okay.  Alexander, I..."

 

"I suppose you don't remember this either!" Alexander turns and wraps his arms around the wide shoulders.  He takes advantage of Clark's surprise parted lips for a slow deep kiss.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Oliver lies, limp and exhausted, on the big bed.  He's been teased and taunted, blown and ridden until he's lost count of exactly how many frequent fliers' miles to Jamaica he's accumulated.  He hasn't felt this relaxed and at peace ever. 

 

He yawns as his phone rings again.  If the Harker deal had gone down the tubes, that's cool.  He can always get more deals, but more nights like this with Lois...that's priceless.  Oliver yawns again and closes his eyes.  Maybe a quick nap while Lois is raiding Lex's kitchen for more yogurt.  More chocolate cheesecake would be too much to hope for, but surely she can find something.  Oliver opens his eyes as the door creaks open.  His smile evaporates as he stares at the shocked looking group standing in the doorway and staring back at him. 

 

Bart darts across the room and into the bathroom and back before announcing, "We're alone."

 

Victor shakes his head.  "Damn, man.  That's more of you than I ever wanted to see.  At least A.C. usually stops with his shirt."

 

"Speak for yourself, Vicky." A.C. steps closer to the bed, tilting his head for a better view.  He tucks his hands into the pockets of his orange hoodie. "A natural blond, huh?  And I bet Clark that you dyed. Now I gotta work on his dad's farm for two days.  Damn." 

 

"Stop calling me, Vicky, you mutant chicken of the sea."  Victor steps toward the bed and stops as a yogurt carton crunches under his foot.  He stares at the other cartons, and sighs loudly.  "Chocolate cheesecake yogurt.  I guess that answers that question, but just to be sure...this is a consensual situation?"

 

Oliver glares at his team.  He's never, never, never going to hear the end of this.  "Of course, it is.  Now, go away."

 

Bart adjusts his red hood.  "Now that's some gratitude for you.  We bust our humps breaking into Castle Luthor, thinking something awful happened to you, and you've been getting yogurt massages."

 

A.C. nods beneath the concealment of his cowl.  "Not cool, dude.  When we couldn't get you on the phone, and found out that you had gone here, we were worried.  Not even the view makes up for that."

 

"Oh, for god's sake." Victor snatches a sheet from the floor and flings it over Oliver's waist.  "There.  Now will you focus, A.C.  I thought you said that you weren't gay."

 

"I’m sorta bi, if you gotta know."

 

Victor sighs.  "I know I'm gonna be sorry I asked, but sorta?  How can be you be sorta bi?"

 

 A.C. smirks.  "You ever read about amphibians and how they can switch sexes under the right circumstances?"

 

"Nooo." Victor groans.  "I knew I was gonna be sorry.  Why did I have to go there?  Why?"

 

Oliver sighs.  "Did the mission go well?"

 

"Ooooh, yeah." Bart grins. "Boom-a-rama."

 

A.C. sniggers.  "So it was good for you too, huh?"

 

"God, yes.  I looove blowing things up.  It's almost as much fun as a good race with..."

 

"Who the hell are you?"  Lois stands in the doorway, glaring at them.  She holds an ancient mace at a business like angle, ignoring the way her green silk robe falls open. "Get away from Oliver."

 

"It's okay, Lois." Oliver smiles warily at her. "They're friends."

 

"Friends," Lois repeats doubtfully as she stares at the concealing hoods and masked faces.  "Do all your friends wear masks?"

 

Oliver squirms, flexing his arms against the ropes.  "Not all of them.  Just some."

 

Lois narrows her eyes as she stares at the guy in the orange and green.  "You look familiar.  I've seen you somewhere before."

 

"They came by to check on me because I didn't answer my phone, but they're going now," Oliver announces.

 

Bart smirks.  "What?  We don't even get a tour of Castle Luthor before we go?"

 

"I'll be happy to show you the battlement." Lois sweeps a cool stare over the group.  Her hand tightens around the mace as she steps into the room.

 

Victor pushes Bart toward the doorway, keeping both them between Lois and A.C. "You heard the man, guys.  Don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out."

 

Lois locks the door behind the retreating guys.  She turns to face Oliver who smiles weakly back at her.  "You've got some explaining to do, Yogurt Boy."   

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Alexander lies, limp and flattened, beneath the pinning weight of his lover.  He idly caresses wide sweat-damp shoulders.  While there's a certain charm to being deflowered of his last vestige of virginity on the Kent family table, it's not the most comfortable location.

 

Despite all Clark's gentleness, his poor ass had taken quite a pounding against the stolid oak top.  In lieu of a hot tub, which the Kent Farm no doubt completely lacked, he would be willing to accept a nice hot bath.  A massage would be good too. Alexander rubs his chin against the top of his new husband's head.  He glances out the window as the late afternoon sun slides behind a cloud.  There's something that he should be remembering.  Something about afternoon, but he's sated, and pleasantly tired.  It doesn't seem terribly important any way.  

 

The kitchen door abruptly bangs open and whirlwind rushes into the room with a thud and a thump as it disgorges a backpack.  "Dad, you'll never what happened at school OHMYGOD! DAD!  On the KITCHEN TABLE!  With HIM!  What's wrong with you?!"  The screen door blasts open and the whirlwind vanishes.

 

"Conner!  Son!  Wait!"

 

Alexander sighs as Clark is suddenly gone.  He carefully levers himself off the table.  Looks like he's going to have to take that bath alone.  Ah, well, all the more time to decide which of Clark's buttons to hit next.  He gathers his clothes and walks across the room, pausing to look at his reflection in the shiny metal surface of the fridge.  Alexander strikes a tragic poise.  "I feel so...so used!" 

 

He chuckles all the way up the stairs.  This is going to be so much fun.  

 

 

The End

 

 

 


End file.
